Not Alone
by Aragorns Arwen
Summary: Gannicus and Sibyl. Post 3.06, Spoils of War. The God of the Arena is falling for the Innocent.
1. Slowly Fading Away

**A/N: This story, although written first (as the episodes aired), is preceded by Fated to Pretend which delves into their relationship from 3x01 to where this story picks up at 3x06. I would recommend reading that before this. **

**I have always loved Gannicus - my favourite Spartacus-verse character. After Melitta, I didn't think I would ship him with anyone ever again. I was wrong. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Sibyl watched as Gannicus dismounted from horse, weariness evident in slump upon the mighty gladiator's shoulders. He had stood as saviour - more than once - and she was not sure how she would ever be able to give thanks.

Standing beside the horse she had been helped off of, she pulled her wrap closer, the flimsy fabric no barrier against the frigid temperature. Goosebumps danced over her body, no bit of flesh immune to its rabid spread. She rubbed her arms to try and hold on to the last vestiges of the comforting heat that had generated between her body and his, but she fought a losing battle. His body had radiated heat like a fire stoked by the gods themselves. Being bereft of his nearness meant the fire dwindled to embers, soon to be extinguished completely.

No one seemed to notice her as grunts and shouts of jubilation filled the air. The rebel leader, Spartacus, stepped forward and embraced Gannicus enthusiastically. Both equally pleased to see the other. The scene warmed her heart as she stood witness to a brotherhood and deep respect between the bringer of rain and the god of the arena.

She did not realise a small smile cuved her lips towards the heavens until she felt the stare of Saxa upon her. Gannicus's woman had launched herself at him at first opportune moment. While she wished she held right to be jealous, she did not. Standing across from them, she admitted to self that they made a fearsome pair.

Gannicus spoke. "It is a miracle any of us yet before you still draws breath." His eyes met hers and butterflies fluttered at her core. "The gods themselves must have taken note of delivered prayer in order to see us from certain end."

It was clear that there were matters of warfare to be discussed and Spartacus pulled Gannicus aside to break urgent words. She looked around, unsure where her place was. In Sinuesa she helped care for Roman captives. When they were released, she had lost purpose.

She watched as Gannicus and Spartacus walked off, Saxa keeping them within sight. She glanced around, uncertain of place and errand.

"Sibyl!" Gannicus called her name. She looked in his direction and saw him share words with Spartacus, who nodded in return. He walked back toward her and put a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"Spartacus would have you aid Nasir in tending wound of injured Laeta. She is taken to his lodging, a cave not far from here. Make your way there directly. There is not much in way of food, but Nasir will share what little there is. take nourishment. Get some rest."

She dropped her head and felt tears threaten to spill. He lifted her chin. This time when issuing an earlier command, his tone was gentle. "Hold tears. Now go."

"_Gratitude_." She meant for the word to carry thanks for all he had done, and still continued to do to keep her safe. She had spoken less than two words to Spartacus, so she was sure it was at his request that she now had errand.

"Agron," Gannicus called. The general stepped forward and motioned for her to follow him. She looked back but Gannicus was gone. Instead, Saxa stood, eyes narrowed, staring after her.

* * *

Gannicus and Spartacus broke path back towards camp, both in silent contemplation. The rebel camp spread out before them, a pitiful amount of ramshackle, hastily constructed tents that would offer little comfort in harsh weather. Fires burned every few metres; people huddled closely around it for warmth.

"Seek rest and the comfort of warm embrace. Tomorrow brings new challenge from Crassus. One we must meet head on."

"Set mind at peace." Gannicus rested a hand on Spartacus's shoulder and squeezed. "We shall piss in the faces of those Roman dogs."

Spartacus gestured over his shoulder. "Your woman awaits."

Gannicus turned, watching Saxa make her way toward them. "She is fearsome sight to behold," he muttered in return.

"One that you seem less enchanted with upon light of your return."

Gannicus scoffed. "You would have answer. But I have none to give." When Saxa pressed her lips to his, he kissed her back; sure waning enthusiasm would be bolstered by much needed rest.

He slung his arm around her waist and made way down the hill.

* * *

Spartacus reviewed the maps given him by Agron. Their position was perilous. With the mountain pass covered in snow, their flank covered by Crassus army, their forward motion blocked, there was little option for sustained cause. His resolve strengthened at thought of being outwitted by the Roman leader. He was proving to be a worthy adversary, much more so than Glaber had ever been.

His musings were interrupted by the woman, Sibyl, as she entered the cave. The entrance had been draped with furs in attempt to stave off winter chill. "Apologies. I did not know you were yet within." She made a move to exit.

"Please. See your errand attended."

She seemed hesitant but went to the far corner of the enclave. It was not a large space, but it served his needs. It could accommodate a man his size at standing height, there were flat rocks which served as makeshift tables but nothing else. The floor of the cave was smooth rock in some places, sand and pebbles in others.

Sibyl kneeled at Laeta's side. The Roman women lay on a bed of furs – _his bed_ – and made faint moaning sounds.

"Her fever has broken. Nasir spoke truthfully. She will live."

Spartacus nodded, unwilling to acknowledge the unexpected relief news brought.

"I will bathe her and see her made comfortable."

"You are named Sibyl?"

She turned and looked him in the eye. She looked younger than he suspected she was. There was innocence about her, but also an inner strength he sensed had been hard won after years of cruelty at the hands of her Dominus. A wound all slaves struggled to mend.

"That is so."

"Gratitude for your efforts in tending Laeta."

"An errand I am sure was procured at the hands of another. It was Gannicus who suggested how I might be of use?"

"It was so, yes. But I stand grateful nonetheless."

"It is no imposition. I had often wished I had worked in her house. Her slaves spoke of her kindness towards them." Sibyl watched as Spartacus's eyes returned to Laeta, his brow furrowed in thought.

She wished to give him some privacy. It was the first time they had exchanged words and although he was kind, he made her nervous. "I shall find Nasir and be back to bathe her."

She was not sure whether he heard her, but she rushed back into the cold, saddened that rebel leader seemed as alone as she was. Only difference that he had trusted friends. She stood absent friend, family or home.

* * *

Gannicus stood at the entrance of his tent, looking out into the vast night. The camp was relatively quiet. In the distance, odd conversations could be heard, but mostly, people were conserving energy, huddled over fires or sleeping in groups for warmth nearby. Unconsciously, he rubbed his hand, fingering the makeshift bandage placed there by woman he would do better not to think of.

"You not sleep?" He turned and watched as Saxa stretched, the furs slipping from her body. She was gloriously naked; her hair tussled from their pleasurable pursuits. "I know what else we can do to make sleepy. _And sweaty_," she added with a feline smile.

He was not always sure what she said. In truth, he was not interested either. Between them, things were simple. They laughed. They fucked. They did not break unnecessary words. They did not pretend to be more than what they were. And he had been content with arrangement. Until Sibyl, her gods and her misguided trust.

Gannicus stepped back into the tent and pulled on his cloak. "I have business with Spartacus. I would have words."

He saw her face fall slightly, but it was not long before her grin turned seductive. She walked towards him, cold forcing nipples to bead like arrow heads. "Spartacus not want talk now. We make fucking instead." She pushed her tongue into his mouth and he was distracted for a minute, but still restless and unsatisfied.

He distentangled himself and stepped back. This time, her face fell completely. "You go see Spartacus?"

"Yes."

She cocked her head to the side. "You see little girl?"

Gannicus allowed a smile to play across his face, sensing an argument he had no patience for. "What need have I of a child when I have a woman in my bed?"

She did not seem convinced, but staved tongue. She wove her fingers through his hair and kissed him deeply, pushing her sex into his. "Later, we make the fucking," she reiterated before she moved back to the warmth of the pallet on the floor.

He grabbed his swords and headed out.

* * *

Gannicus entered cave, not finding Spartacus where he had expected to find him - pouring over strategy and warfare. The cavernous interior was empty save for the Roman woman in the corner.

_Fucking cold everywhere_, he mused. He walked to the fire, resting swords close to hand, his attention diverted by Sibyl who entered. She had not seen him and headed straight for Laeta, carrying a large bowl with steam rising tantalisingly from it.

He waited for her to set burden down before saying, "you have been put to work."

Although she seemed surprised to see him there, she did not jump nervously as he had expected her to. He was pleased.

"It takes mind from troubles and lifts spirits to do what is necessary - and of use."

Gannicus nodded and watched as she kneeled next to the unconscious woman, carefully bathing her face, neck, her hands and arms, her legs and feet.

"I am no warrior. But I can tend wounds and help the injured."

He stood aware of fact that he watched her every move, unable to stop self from looking. The curve of her back, her dark hair across her shoulder, nape of her neck, the curve of her waistline, her thighs, the swell of her calves. _She was no fucking child._

"You could learn to wield a weapon."

She flashed a smile over her shoulder. "Weapons are for warriors. If intent be clear, I have fear of blades."

"Which is why you showed reluctance when instructed to use it."

She nodded. Gannicus frowned, uncomfortable with idea that she was not capable of protecting herself.

"Sibyl, this is a war. It would serve cause if able to wield weapon to protect self when need arises. That day _will_ come. Even your gods cannot stop it."

"The gods will protect me."

"The gods cannot ensure that your journey to the afterlife is swift. If Roman's were to take you captive, they would rape and pillage, marking your death with torturous intent."

He watched her lay furs closely around Laeta before rising nimbly and coming towards him. She gestured for him to sit upon flat stone next to fire and sat beside him. Without words, she reached for his hand and undid the knot she had made earlier. Gannicus frowned at her, but did not pull away.

A part of him, a part he would never own to, enjoyed her gentle ministrations and the attention she lavished upon him. It came from less lascivious purpose and seemed to be born from genuine need to nurture and care. With cloth and warm water, she proceeded to clean his wound.

"You would have me train with your men?"

"They are not my men," he growled. "I would have you develop skill. Skill enough to protect yourself."

"I will make request to Nasir."

Gannicus knew Nasir had tastes which did not press upon women. Still the thought of her being instructed by another man caused a streak of unexpected jealousy to take hold. He had no right to feel it.

"Why wait to receive instruction. I would give first lesson now." The words were out of his mouth before he had wisdom to stop them.

Sibyl had been just completed redressing his injury. Her neck snapped up at his words, Their eyes colliding spectacularly.

Wide, clear and _trusting_. Open, honest and _trusting_. Beautiful, green and _trusting_.

"You would teach?"

Gannicus stood, needing to place greater distance between them. "I would instruct first lesson." He reached for the swords he had laid down and offered her one, the blade pointing outwards.

She was biting her lip, but put down the bowl, stood and reached for the offered weapon. Her arm drooped under its weight and he chuckled. Her eyes darted to his and he saw her resolve strengthen. He nodded with approval, amused grin still in place.

"It is heavier than anticipated." Sibyl adjusted its weight in her hands. "I am more likely to stab self in lower limb than cause injury to enemy."

Gannicus roared with laughter and she smiled in return, enjoying the full bodied sound.

"I was once as you are, without muscle and strength. That will come."

"Mind cannot conjure image of you as I now stand."

He winked at her and demonstrated the appropriate grip when holding the sword. "How you wield weapon comes only after you master how to hold it. See blade as extension of arm."

Sibyl nodded and tried to lift the sword with one arm. She barely managed before having to use her other to aid.

He moved to stand beside her, demonstrating how his hands were positioned and his weight distributed. Eventually, he stabbed his own sword into the sand and stepped in close.

His arms bracketed hers, his hands cupping her fingers firmly as they held his sword. Stepping even closer, he rotated their wrists, gently slashing the blade from side to side.

She stood a lot shorter than he was and her head tucked into the bottom of his chin, back pressed to his chest. Gannicus peered down at her. She had her lip between her teeth, concentrating hard.

"Move your legs further apart. Stand sure and strong," he whispered, unintentionally close to her ear.

He heard her breath hitch when his hands dropped from her arms and cupped her hips, running fingers downwards towards her knees. "Bend," he instructed. "More. Good. Do you feel the difference?"

"It feels lighter," she said surprised, excited. She turned her head, smiling broadly, their eyes meeting. He was sure he could see his own reflection in their depths. Her smile was brighter than any day experienced in recent memory. Like the powerful waves of vast oceans, he felt a pull and fell towards her. Her lids drooped; her eyes focused upon his lips. Gannicus saw colour flood her cheeks, his eyes own gaze moving to her mouth.

He nuzzled her hair, his eyes closed, trying to regain control. And then he felt her pull back.

"_Gannicus_…" He opened his eyes and met her direct gaze. He watched her shake her head slightly, as if trying to lift mind from heavy fog. "We cannot do this."

"No." He realised he stood deeply disappointed. His hand caressed her cheek, running down to her chin before letting go. She was right. "We cannot."

He stepped away, taking sword from her limp hand and retrieving his own from the sand. "Perhaps future instruction from Nasir would be wiser."

Sibyl looked as if she would say something, but in the end simply nodded.

"Eat. Then sleep."

At the exit he looked back at her. The last woman who stood such a vision had been the only woman to hold his heart. He turned and then he was gone.

"May the gods grant you good dreams," she whispered to the emptiness.


	2. You're Lost and So Afraid

**A/N: I stand in absolute awe of glorious response to words faithfully penned. Each review warms heart and spurs mind to purpose. **

**Gratitude and prayers for continued enjoyment.**

* * *

Sibyl was aware of voices. They pierced her subconscious as sleep lifted layer upon layer. It was warm where she lay, her body pressed close to Laeta's. The other woman had woken a few times that night, each time requesting a drink of water before falling back into slumber.

She knew they occupied Spartacus's bed. Where he had lay that night, she did not know. Poking her head out from beneath pelts of fur, she saw Agron, Nasir, Crixus, his woman Naevia and Gannicus. As he was often want to do, he stood slightly off to the side - a part of the circle, yet also alone. His legs were spread, relaxed, his hands folded across chest.

Debate seemed heated and she thought it best not to stir, lest she draw attention to herself. Laeta slept still, so Sibyl lay quiet and watched.

"Why wait for fucking Roman's to press advantage. We should strike while iron is hot and send them swiftly to the afterlife!"

"I know not what vantage you see brother, but from present position in this fucking abyss, iron you speak of stands frozen," Gannicus drawled.

"I agree with Crixus. Why do we wait, allowing Roman dogs to hunt us like fucking animals. We should take back the city and kill all who flee across path."

"Your woman stands equally addled of mind." Gannicus wore amused expression; one she had come to know well and silently cherish.

She watched Naevia's lips curl in distaste as Crixus stepped towards Gannicus, his body ready for a fight.

"Crixus!" Spartacus warned, voice ringing with threatening authority. "Call mind to heal and think upon consequence of rash action. Our enemy has shrewd mind and cunning plan. We strike when unprepared and all we achieve is more men slain by Roman hand and own ill-conceived thought."

"What would you have us do? Hide like babes yet suckling at breast of fucking mother?" Crixus countered.

"I would have us bide time, form sound plan and act when iron is best primed to achieve desired outcome." Spartacus's tone brooked no further opposition and Crixus seethed, but remained silent.

"Agron," Spartacus continued, "report."

"Sentries posted at base of mountain report Roman supplies will soon arrive. Soldiers whisper of dwindling supply within city. With sound strategy, we might make unexpected move to intercept food to nourish own people."

"We stand absent choice. Crassus would have us meet our end as starving savages." Gannicus interjected.

Spartacus nodded solemnly and Sibyl imagined she could see the cogs turning in his head. It was at this moment Laeta awoke, mewing sound escaping from mouth. Without warning, all eyes focused upon them. Sibyl blushed, ashamed to be caught listening to unintended conversation.

"Apologies. I did not mean to intrude. I thought it best to wait till words had run to desired end."

"See plan executed. Take Lugo, Saxa and necessary men and see it done." Spartacus continued. Sibyl took the opportunity to rise from bed, the cold air almost knocking the breath from body. She shivered involuntarily and without reason, looked to Gannicus.

His eyes were yet upon her and her body flushed in response, all chills extinguished by his heated gaze. He was frowning, as if heavy thought weighed upon mind. She smiled, a small smile. But he did not return it.

Sibyl sighed inwardly when he turned away, his attention back with Spartacus. It seemed they had taken many steps backwards in hours since they had touched.

"What of Crixus and I? I would accompany Agron on errand and see to helping some Roman shits to the afterlife," Naevia interjected.

Agron who had made motion to leave, turned and stood near Nasir. Spartacus shook his head and addressed Agron. "I would have caution be of primary concern. Slay those upon path, but objective to return with food and supplies with none of our men sent to meet the gods is most desired." He now looked at Naevia. "Your talents are best served training those within camp who still require it. I would not have blood bath when we are yet ill prepared to face our enemy."

The sound of their conversation fell away as she focused on Laeta. Sibyl poured some water into a clay cup and kneeled next to her, raising the woman gently and allowing her to drink. Sibyl's eye caught her bandaged arm and felt compassion stir within breast. For those who had been slaves since birth, branding upon skin was no longer as painful to bear. If anything, it helped her seek courage to face fears and aid the cause for freedom. But Laeta had been born to privilege, now cast out by her own people. She could but imagine depth of her despair.

"Gratitude," Laeta said as she lay back. "I know you have given care. I do not take your kindness lightly."

She rearranged the furs. "There is no need to give thanks. The gods watched over you and saw fit to yet grant you life."

Laeta's eyes seemed distant, lost in thought. "Death staved and yet spared to lead what kind of life." Sibyl realised it was not posed as question, but personal musing.

"I will prepare something to eat and see your wound tended. Will you be alright?"

Laeta nodded, looking around for the first time. "Where am I?"

"Spartacus ordered you brought to his lodging. You yet lay upon his bed. He has just had words with his Generals. Would you wish to speak with him?"

Laeta was quiet a moment, Sibyl not sure she had been heard. Eventually though, the other woman answered. "Gratitude. I would speak with Spartacus once I have had nourishment and regained some strength."

Sibyl smiled, understanding how the other woman would need fortification to face the mighty gladiator.

"Apologies that I then appear before required rejuvenation."

She spun around and Spartacus stood behind her. Spartacus _and_ Gannicus. The room had emptied of all others.

"The gods fail to answer all prayers," she murmured. "Sibyl, I would beg assistance to sit in more dignified manner to receive host."

Spartacus put a hand to Sibyl's shoulder, stopping her from giving requested aid. "I would help Laeta. Continue with morning preparations."

She looked from Laeta's flushed cheeks to Spartacus's reassuring smile. She nodded and turned, faced with Gannicus. He had not broke words, but stepped aside, allowing her to pass. She slipped her feet into her sandals and the chills were back. She had not taken a handful of steps outside before a cloak was draped upon her shoulders. The warmth it brought had a sigh of pleasure break forth from her lips.

She turned and was surprised to see Gannicus, now absent covering. "Gratitude. But I would not have you absent protection in order to warm me. My purpose is of lesser cause. It is of greater importance to have Spartacus's general with comfort of heated bones."

Gannicus staved her hands as they moved to remove cloak. Their hands touched and he held hers, keeping the woolen covering on her body. "I would have you wear it. The weather turns and I fear colder hours loom. Your gods see fit to rain torment upon us. Before this war is over, we might all have our frozen corpses lay in welcome to Roman shits."

She shook her head, prying one hand from his and touching his bare arm. "You will freeze. And you already have done more than enough to aid me. I would not have you cold so I may be warm."

He laughed. "Then we reach impasse."

"Gannicus…" she whispered.

"Rest easy, little one. Warm cloak and warm body await me at my tent. I have no need of cloth that now gives comfort."

She tried and succeeded in convincing self that her features remained impassive at his declaration. Yet she would never know that her eyes glazed over, flicking down quickly, betraying her response to his admission of physical comfort from another.

"How stands your woman this morning? You go to see her depart for Roman errand?"

Gannicus shrugged. "Saxa is as fierce as most men here. _More than most_," he said wryly. "She takes care of self."

Sibyl frowned. "It does not seem you share heartfelt sentiment. She cares for you."

He laughed. "We _fuck_. There is difference."

She winced and was sure he had said it in order to inspire reaction. She had had enough, irrationally upset.

"I beg leave. Laeta waits. Gratitude for the cloak. I shall offer a prayer and ask the gods to shield you from bitter cold."

He stepped closer momentarily. "If you must say a prayer, ask your gods to protect you." Her eyes collided with his. His tone was soft, a gentle, but sincere request. "That is what I would ask."

Her heart warmed. "Gannicus…"

"Remember, Nasir. Seek promised lesson."

She nodded, unsure of response to make. He smiled then - his charming smile, the one that reached his eyes, curved attractive lines around his mouth and carried no hint of mockery. "Off with you then."

She met his gaze one last time before hurrying away, keeping his prayer upon her lips.

* * *

By nightfall, there were boisterous sounds all over the rebel camp. Agron and his men had been successful in surprising Roman soldiers and commandeering much needed supplies. Spartacus stood proud at the victory over Crassus, sure the Roman had underestimated the rebels, assured that they would not risk new attack after being so recently defeated.

The supplies were plentiful, enough to feed for many weeks. Sibyl believed the gods had heard her prayers because as soon as men arrived back, snow began to steadily fall, laying thick blanket upon the earth. Its frozen decent from the heavens made it impossible for Roman soldiers to follow or risk attack in perilous conditions. The rebels had temporary reprieve.

Spartacus placed her in charge of taking stock of inventory and ensuring food was dispersed in equal, but rationed portions to all. Cured meats – wild boar, peasant, goat - large wheels of cheese, milk, some eggs, vegetables, mountains of bread, grain - and wine. With the temperature below freezing, there was no threat of food spoiling. Breads stood frozen but were heated upon fire.

The envoy had also carried cooking implements and basic necessities she was sure was destined for the Roman Imperator. She was only too grateful. Upon her feet was now a pair of fur lined leather boots. They were yet too large, but definite improvement upon her sandals.

She was heading back to the food store - little more than a large tent with guards posted to ensure pilfering did not take place - when she found herself face to face with a dirty, drunk rebel.

"What has the gods sent upon fortuitous path? A pretty thing like you must be sent to warm bed and sate cock."

She made move to pass. Sun had minutes before final dip beneath the horizon, leaving surroundings dark and gloomy. A general noise yet arose from camp but the path was absent any other. She stood alone.

"I would ask that you allow passage or see ill fortune as consequence." She forced calm, her heartbeat racing as fiercely as the horse that had carried her and Gannicus on its back.

The rebel roared with laughter, stumbling even closer. "What consequence would you see fit to inflict?" He reached for her and she twisted beyond grasp. But he grabbed a hold of her cloak and crushed her within embrace. She kicked his shinbone and although he grunted, it made little difference, only serving to increase his ire.

"Fucking bitch!" He spat. "Suck cock with fervor and I would ride you gently. Or as gentle as our passion allows."

Genuine fear gripped as she tried to push against him and failed to make impression. His mouth descended and she turned her head away, a muffled scream escaping. She cringed and struggled harder, tears of frustration spilling from her eyes.

"Shut fucking mouth!" Her cheek stung as deafening slap hit left side of her face. For a moment, shock was so great she felt nothing, heard nothing and saw only stars dance before her eyes, moving just out of her reach. Within seconds however, pain was close upon heel and exploded on the side of her head. She moaned, body limp.

As though at a distance, she heard her attacker's laughter and felt ice upon the back of her head and neck. Vaguely she realised she lay upon icy path, cold staking claim to her calves, her thighs and her back as skirts were lifted, her soft thighs pawed. She made attempt to move, but was immobilised by fear. Intended scream failed to find voice as lips did not move. She choked out a protest and pushed at the chest that pressed to hers. Eventually, she could not draw breath.

Her legs were forced wide and Sibyl, unaware of the tears freezing in tracks upon her face, prayed to the gods to take her, to have darkness swallow and deliver her from hellish reality.

She thought she heard her name - _Gannicus_? The gods had answered prayer. Perhaps she had been granted oblivion. For only in her dreams did he call to her, come to her and care for her. Absent warning, she felt breath restored as heavy weight lifted. Everywhere else, she felt nothing but the cold. A scream pierced the night and she wondered if it was her own. But then she felt warm, tender hands upon her face, fabric of her dress pulled down and she heard _his _voice.

"Sibyl! Sibyl! I would have answer! Sibyl!"

For him, only for him, she forced her eyes open and a blurry vision of Gannicus's face appeared.

"_Thank the Gods_," she heard him mutter, relieved.

"Gannicus…"

"You are hurt." Hands roamed over her body.

"No. But… my face…"

"Blood dries and swelling sets in. It should not be of long duration. This cold aids your recovery. Can you stand?"

She tried to move and with aid, managed to stand. She took deep breaths to regain equilibrium and felt a little better. The side of her face was on fire, but she was grateful to be in one piece.

"Looking around, she noticed dark patches in the snow. _Blood_. "Did you…?"

"Fucking shit deserved far worse. He is sent to the afterlife in shame. Would I could do it all over again," he spat out. "I would have Lugo dispatch of pitiful corpse."

She nodded, appalled and grateful in equal measures. There had been so much death already. _When would it end?_ Yet she stood alive and unharmed. Again, _because of __him__._

"I would speak of thanks. You stand guardian angel."

His laughter was mocking, yet to her a joyous sound nonetheless. Not expecting it, she felt air swoosh from her body as she was lifted weightlessly into his arms. "I would hold talk of thanks. At least until we are in warmer climate. Fucking arse freezes on frigid night."

She knew she should protest, but could not bring self to utter such word. Instead, she tucked her cheek - he had ensured bruised side faced outward - into his chest and enjoyed comforting touch. He held her firmly, but with tenderness.

When light hit her eyelids, she opened eyes, expecting to find herself in Spartacus's lodgings. Instead, she was in a small tent, the interior dim, being lowered gently onto a fur pallet.

"Gannicus, where are we?" She already knew the answer.

"Welcome to humble accommodations."

She felt cheeks flush. "I would have you take me to the cave. I would rest easy in Spartacus-"

"Ah, you favour our famed leader?" She watched him place a bowl of water upon the fire that he stoked to life. The tent was small, cosy, no amenities at all. Just a fire, battle regalia and supplies strewn absent care.

"I-"

"I would caution against forming deep attachment. Spartacus's heart is buried deep within chest. It belongs to cherished wife and none will access it. Those who have tried now lay within earth, having failed to pierce hearts wall."

She frowned. "You misunderstand meaning."

He turned around, annoyed. "I speak truth. You waste effort if belief is to attain heart of rebel leader."

"I do not covert Spartacus's affection," she said honestly. She thought she saw his shoulders sag in relief. "But I have seen smoldering look shared with Laeta. There might yet be embers which glow enough to catch fire."

Reaching for the heated water; he sat beside her, their roles reversed. "You would foster affection between Roman woman and leader of hated rebellion?"

"Not foster. Merely observe what has already taken root. What grows."

"You are of a curious mind," Gannicas said, chuckling. This time, she sat idle as he tended to her. She would not have thought he could be so tender. Gently, he wiped blood from her cheek, pushing hair from her face and placing behind her ears. She kept her gaze fixed upon his, moment so intimate; she was forced to close them instead, enjoying feeling of warmth that spread throughout her body.

His voice was hoarse when he asked, "does pain recede?"

She opened her eyes and storm collided with sea. "It does."

She had not intend to, but slowly leaned forward. He remained still, inert, eyes roving across her face. She held her breath, unaware he did same. Sibyl swallowed her fears and leapt from cliff. She gently pressed her lips to his. A soft kiss. A chaste kiss.

She pulled back. "Gratitude."


	3. Where Is the Hope

**Dear Readers,**

**Episode 3.07, _Mors Indecepta_, is when Gannicus & Sibyl became canon! There are many who bemoan how (because of Saxa) and where (blizzard), but I think it was perfect. Their love scene was so beatifully filmed, I might even venture to say that it was one of THE most beautiful love scenes to date. And that's saying a lot on a show known for wild sex. Its also the first time we see that level of intimacy between a couple (Kore and Crassus possibly the other exception). I saw the scene as being from Sibyl's perspective, Gannicus giving pleasure and less about his receiving. A FIRST for him. Anyway, let me know your thoughts.**

**An amazing vidder on tumblr was kind enough to accept a request I had casually made and I was gifted with a fanvid to the chapter titles of this fic. It's flawless and perfect and if you are interested in watching, search for _xxDivineChaos_ on YT. The vid is called _where is the hope; in a world so cold._**

**As always, reviews for this story are just ridiculously amazing. Gratitude one and all.**

* * *

Gannicus reminded himself that he no longer stood as boy, but a man. A fucking warrior. With her, he _would_ control his base urges. Head battled with heart but he knew it was the right thing to do. He would have resisted. Had she not _touched_ him.

Her eyes were large, luminescent orbs and he had notion she stared straight into his soul. His mouth turned as dry as the sands he had oft fought upon, sensation unfamiliar when brought upon by a woman. Then mind conjured picture of her in all her naked splendour and he was sure he tasted very sand, so parched was he. He backed away, ready to accept chaste offering as thanks. But then she touched the back of her hand to his raspy cheek, a feather light stroke… and resistance crumbled.

Gannicus pulled her against him quite roughly and fused their mouths together. He was starved for breath and she was nourishment from the gods. He demanded total surrender and instantly commanded entrance to her mouth. She tasted sweet. And pure - if such a thing even existed. The combination was one he had not sampled since his youth - when he had stood equally inexperienced. It was intoxicating.

He shifted and pulled her onto his lap. She did not resist, winding her arms around his neck, her fingers into his hair and angling her mouth to afford him better access. For a minute he was surprised. But then the shy, tentative touch of her tongue to his snapped his control.

Quickly things escalated. She was on her back; he settled between her thighs, wildly thrusting, both of them still clothed. She gasped, his lips traveling to her neck, licking, sucking, kissing, pulling at her clothes, longing to see flesh exposed.

"Gannicus…" she panted.

He crushed his lips to hers again, stopping further words. Momentarily she was lost again and he grunted in pleasure. But through the haze of dizzying passion, he realised she was not pulling him closer, she was pushing him away.

"Gannicus…"

In an instant, he rolled off her, running his hands through his hair. Truth be told, it was a way to keep hands occupied and ensure he would not reach for her again. She made move to sit, tugging at her dress. Both were breathing heavily, the sound filling silent enclave.

"Apologies," he said. "I was lost in heat of moment. I did not mean to impress attentions upon unwilling subject."

She reached for him, but he shrugged back, getting to his feet and putting physical distance between them.

"I was not unwilling-"

"Would that I were. This," he gestured to the space between them, "would be grievous error. I have known it for a time. From moment of first sight truth be told." His tone was harsh.

Gannicus turned away because looking at her – dark hair cascading gloriously, straps of her dress framing shoulders, lips swollen – nay _bruised_ - from his plundering – guilt pooled in his gut. So wrapped up in own feelings, he missed the look of hurt that crossed over her face at biting words.

"Apologies. I was but overwhelmed at escalation of moment. It has been a while since I…" he turned back when she did not continue. "It was not intention to ruin moment. Just to… allow passion to simmer." Her cheeks flooded with colour and he was reminded of the red rouging often worn by wealthy Roman women. She needed no artificial aids to enhance blooming beauty.

He shook his head. "I have lost mind. You are but a child!" As he said the words, he knew he spoke falsely. She was no more a child than Saxa or any of the numerous women he had taken to his bed in recent past.

He watched an indignant fire light inside of her. "Would you swear false and claim child stood before you the night your woman brought me to you? I am not a child!"

"By the fucking gods! Neither am I." Fact that she reminded him of own memory of her nakedness only served to impress anger as silence stretched between them. "It is late and day has been long. No doubt cause of much regretted action. Perhaps it is time to shut eyes and find comfort in needed rest."

"Will we not share further words on this?"

"Not this night." Gannicus collected his cloak and swords. "Seek comfort. I would not cause further distress."

Sibyl sat up straighter. "You leave?"

"Do not be alarmed. I would not leave you unprotected. I return to hold vigil once energy is exerted."

* * *

_I was not unwilling._

Sibyl was unsure how long she sat silent and still, waking from a dream, the details disappearing, leaving memory hazy.

Proof of reality rested in her physical reaction. Her body yet ached for him, her lips could taste him. Her dress, yet bunched around her limbs spoke of passionate encounter. But her arms held none close, the space beside her empty.

She felt foolish and could kick self upon arse. She stood no innocent in the ways between men and women. When she was sixteen her Dominus had forced himself upon her – as he had all the young slaves in the house. Once maidenhead was severed, his interest fled upon swift wings.

When eighteen, she imagined love blossoming within breast and willingly lay with a slave from a neighbouring house. He had treated her with kindness and touched her with reverence. The experience had not been as frightening, painful and unpleasant as her first time. But it was nothing compared to the searing passion when Gannicus pressed upon her, lying heavily at her breast, hands conjuring unknown pleasures. When he thrust at her core, she had felt mind slip and panic grip. She had been overcome. _Pleasured_. But overcome.

Sibyl pondered venturing forth to make bed with Laeta, but thought better of it. The hour was late and truth be told, she did not wish to take dark path absent companion. It was not safe and would prove foolish scheme.

She lay down and pulled limbs close, the temperature already dropping. She could hear vicious wind pulling at tent and felt shiver race to base of spine. She clenched her teeth, a picture of Gannicus outside in snow and wind somewhere. She thought now of Saxa. _Where was his woman?_ _Would need to _expend energy_ push him into waiting arms?_

He had spoken of relationship as if it were of little consequence. But she knew it was not faithful impression. Saxa had marked territory with words, look and hand. _Should I let him be? Should I steer clear of path and presence?_

Sibyl had learnt early lesson that all was fair in love and matters of war. If Gannicus did not wish to be parted from Saxa, then it was matter of acceptance. Wherever Saxa was, she was not here. _Gratitude_, she whispered to the gods as fitful sleep commenced decent. She curled her hands beneath chin, trying to warm them.

Despite expressed wish to see her removed from path, he had kissed her with burning desire. She curled into a ball, trying to generate heat. He stood a complicated man. In truth, she had no experience on how to handle such a specimen.

But she did believe in the gods. They served faithfully all her life. When she had prayed to be delivered from her Dominus, Gannicus had been answer to her prayer, a sign from the heavens. The gods had sent him to her. She would yet understand what higher purpose he had to serve.

Sibyl sighed. Eventually, sleep claimed her.

* * *

Across camp, Gannicus took another gulp of wine. On second pitcher, the effects upon mind were yet to appear. Instead of blissful haze, he saw naught but her face in sharp clarity. Around the fire, men and women drank, laughed, fucked and shared stories of Roman's killed. Spirits were lifted after food and drink secured.

On opposite side of blaze, he watched a figure emerge. It was Saxa. She had been on scouting mission with her kinsmen. He was surprised to see her, expecting return upon dawn of new day.

She made way towards him, landing upon lap and pushing lips to his, her tongue immediately invading. "You taste wine. Mmmm…" He watched her take the pitcher and take a lusty swig. "Now we taste same."

She moved to fuse lips, but he pulled back. "I thought return would be upon sun's light?"

She shrugged. "See only fucking snow. Too deep. Cold." She clasped her hand behind his neck and reeled him in. Again, he pulled back, attempting to dislodge her, standing.

Her eyes narrowed and she pushed her face close to his, bearing her teeth. "You not use cock?"

Gannicus laughed, defensive. "No man can fuck with weather this cold."

She grabbed his cock and stroked once, twice, thrice. His manhood twitched and she gave him a disgusted look.

"Cock work," she said, making move to leave but changed mind. Instead, she turned and delivered blow to his midsection, causing him to double over. But she was not done. She brought both arms down across his back and he landed in the snow, face down. Finally, she spat at his head and shouted a litany of words he failed to understand.

He did not fight back, did not react to the taunts by men now watching. It was deserved and Saxa owed her revenge.

She eventually ran out of steam and he made move to stand, not surprised to feel his ribs sting. She was fucking ferocious, reason he had been attracted. Though admiration for her skill remained, desire no longer burned.

"Apologies," he whispered to her, surprised to see tears in her eyes. "Saxa-"

"Fuck you. Stay far or I will cut your cock and serve to horses."

He wished to express sincere regret, but knew words would only cause greater anger. Perhaps in time they might once again be able to fight alongside upon field of battle.

* * *

Gannicus returned to his tent, pausing outside, trying to clear mind. When he entered, Sibyl was barely recognisable but for the tiny bump in the centre of the pallet. She was small, curled into a tight ball – no doubt to conserve heat. The temperature was frigid and outside, everyone had made way to seek warmer accommodations. It was very late and many hours since he had left her.

Inside, it was not much warmer as the fire had all but extinguished. He threw wood onto the embers and fanned the flames; eventually they leapt and roared to life. He sat across from her, deciding to clean his swords, using the coarse sand upon floor to wipe clean blood and gore.

But he remained restless, listening to her soft whimpers. Initially he thought it pain or bad dreams. But she was cold and he knew there were no additional furs to spare. Truth be told, he had never needed it. With Saxa beside him, they generated more than enough heat to keep body warm.

He considered solutions, but there was only one. He threw wood upon fire, encouraging it to shed maximum heat. Gannicus stripped down and prayed to the gods he had not lost sense. He slipped onto the pallet behind her, curving his chest along her back. She did not awaken, but felt her straighten her spine and burrow towards him. He curled his arms around her, pushing his leg between hers. Even after hours under the fur, she was cold, her body shuddering.

He rubbed her arms gently and she moaned, turning and curling into heated source. Gannicus forced self to relax. That night, sleep came easily.

* * *

When consciousness returned, Sibyl felt warm, comfortable and delightfully lazy. She made move to stretch limbs but realized she could not move. Her eyes opened and gave evidence mind refused to comprehend. She lay clasped tightly to gladiators chest; her head cradled upon muscled shoulder, legs deliciously tangled, his arms an anchor at her waist. She made move to peer at his face.

In sleep, he was relaxed. Completely. She had never had cause to see him as such during waking hour. Lines fanned out from around his eyes, radiating like rays of bright sun. Dark beard covered face, adding dangerous but attractive appeal. His hair stood a tangled mess, the golden strands fighting to escape confines of its braid. Her hands itched to touch it.

Sibyl ran her palm over his chest, the sculpted surface smooth. Smooth and warm. His body radiated heat, acting as sleeping potion, drugging mind into oblivion.

Eventually, afraid of being caught, she tucked her hand under her chin and lay quietly, happy to wait for him to greet morning. She would not have disturbed him for the world.

Eventually, light sleep claimed her but when he moved to stretch body, she awoke. This time when she opened her eyes, her gaze caught his.

His stare unnerved and she was forced to break silence. "Gratitude for offering source of heat. I make assumption it is why we share bed." Sibyl was proud of even tone of voice. Her heart was beating as if hummingbirds' wings fluttered within chest.

He did not answer, instead shifted and gently grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger. It was not the first time he had touched her thus, searching her face for answer she would readily provide.

"What do you seek?" she asked.

"Answer to pressing question."

Sibyl had no idea what he meant and so mirrored his action. She ran hand across his raspy cheek and cupped his chin, rubbing her fingers gently across the cleft.

"How did you get this?"

He shrugged. "Imperfection I was born with."

She smiled. "It is sculpting from the gods. It is not flaw but gift to differentiate from others."

She was pleased when he chuckled; deep, throaty and relaxed, the anger of the night before seemed at least temporarily forgotten.

Reluctantly, he removed hands from her and peered outside. The rush of cold air had her gasp instantly.

"It seems close to midday I would venture guess."

She shot up. "Midday?! I would tend Laeta. Prepare the rations for first meal, meet Nasir for-" Gannicus pressed finger to lips to stave flood of words. It was yet too early to deal with an excitable female.

"Nasir searched for you upon daybreak. I offered instruction to let you rest in light of attack. He engaged favour from Naevia and has dispersed food."

She relaxed. "Gratitude. I constantly offer thanks for acting as rescuer. I would have you witness me stand on own feet."

"There is no shame in accepting aid when required."

"Yet you accept help from no one."

He grinned. "I am not _average_ man."

"You stand removed?" Her lips twitched.

"I stand above." He winked at her, a wicked smile playing at his lips.

Sibyl smiled back, enjoying his teasing.

"Little bitch!"

Gannicus turned and watched as Saxa launched herself at Sibyl. She did not get far, restraining her. She fought like a wild animal, but he had let her have the measure of him last night. This morning, circumstance was different.

"Bitch!" She spat out again. "This is what you leave for? She not woman. She fucking child. Weak!"

Her next words were rapid and German.

"You make fucking with… this!"

Gannicus pushed her hands behind her back and restrained her, pulling her in close to his chest.

"Watch tongue and see sense returned to heated mind. _I fuck no one_." He let her go.

Saxa almost growled, looking around uncertainly. "She sleeps in fucking bed."

"She sleeps. That is all."

"Stay far from me. Do not look or speak. We finish."

Gannicus stepped close to her, cupping her throat threateningly. "I accept hurt I have inflicted and know I do not wish to cause pain. Feeling between us has become complicated and I would not break heart."

"You break _nothing_," she hissed.

He continued. "But speak thus of Sibyl again and I will face you as warriors must or strike tongue from mouth when spreading poisoned words."

Saxa stared from Gannicus to Sibyl and back again before storming out.

He turned back to Sibyl. "Are you hurt?"

The spell was broken. "No."

"Then see self prepared. I would assist in desire to see Laeta." He stepped outside, leaving her alone.

It stood grievous error allowing her close. Saxa's feelings were a complication he had not foreseen. It would be best to ensure he stayed far from Sibyl's presence. For good this time.


	4. In A World So Cold

"Excellent Sibyl. Your skill is improving." Nasir set aside the wooden swords they practiced with, wiping sweat from brow.

"You lie with gilded tongue. What little skill I have managed to develop is only because of excellent teacher who gives instruction. It becomes easier. But I will never be a warrior."

"To defend oneself is primary." He smiled. "We might yet make a warrior of you before this war is over."

They sparred in the cave, the only place covered with space enough to move. Spartacus and his generals were on scouting excursions, leaving Nasir with time to give Sibyl instruction. They had been working diligently for a little over a week. In the morning after food dispersion and by late afternoon when scouting duties were attended.

Weather had not yet cleared; still snow fell from the heavens, bringing with it colder weather and impenetrable mountain passes. There had been a few deaths to their people – mostly from cold since they had encamped.

Sibyl sat near fire, offering Nasir a cup of wine.

"Gratitude," he said, sitting beside her and sipping pensively. "The weather I fear may yet get worse."

"How is such a thing possible? Shovelling snow to make path has become daily task. If any more snow should fall, we will surely be buried alive."

"There is a turn in direction of wind. I stand certain a blizzard comes this way."

"This is why Spartacus chose to scout the mountains this morning. Foresight before the weather turns."

Nasir nodded. "Agron, Crixus and Gannicus join him. Agron will no doubt bite head off when he returns. He hates having feet wet."

Sibyl laughed. "Even fearsome warriors have their burdens to bare." She sneaked a glance at Nasir and ventured. "What of Crixus… and Gannicus. Fare they well?"

Nasir looked over at her, no fool. "Crixus is constantly called to heal with temper ready to flare at opportune or inopportune moment. And Gannicus… he oft plays role of counsellor to Spartacus, having cool and clever mind."

She set her cup down, tucking her dress around her legs. "I have not seen much of him this past week," she admitted freely. Since Gannicus had last escorted her to see Laeta, he had made effort to remain far from sight. She had ventured to his tent one night, only to find it empty and had not had courage to await his return.

"He stays close to the affairs of war." A beat. "I come to understand that he and Saxa have parted ways."

Her neck snapped up. "They have parted ways?"

"Agron reported it quite challenging for Spartacus to convince Saxa to join mission with Gannicus. Tempers have not yet improved."

Mind reeled with news. She had made assumption he had rekindled romance with the German warrior and therefore avoided her.

Nasir continued. "Am I to understand failed relations might have something to do with… you?"

Sibyl blushed. "You are mistaken. There is nothing between Gannicus and I. In fact, I fear he avoids my presence since rescue in Sinuesa."

Nasir sipped the last of his wine. "Colour staining cheek betrays words."

She shook her head, embarrassed but eager to share thoughts with someone. "We kissed," she admitted, gauging Nasir's expression. Although he raised brow, he did not seem to stand in judgement. "But that is all," she rushed. "He avoids me at all costs since dreaded incident. I was left to assume he had rekindled relations with Saxa."

"Sibyl, you believe Gannicus carries no feeling in heart for you?"

"It pains, but no. In truth, I have no experience with a man such as he. Mind is addled and I am out of depth."

"I once stood as you do. When first I met Agron, he seemed a fearsome warrior with changeable temperament. For much time it was hard to determine true feeling among chaos of daily war effort. But we have managed to find common ground."

"I stand no warrior, I believe in the power and blessings of the gods and I have limited experience with men of his kind. How would I seek common ground to break path? He being mighty gladiator, a man of little faith and experience with women that I cannot comprehend even when setting mind to work."

Nasir rubbed her shoulder, his eyes large and kind. She had become very fond of him, considering him tentative friend. He made move to stand.

"If Gannicus holds no affection for you in breast, then why does he seek daily report on progress of training?"

She frowned. "He makes request?"

"Daily." Nasir collected the swords. "That is not action of unaffected."

She sighed, more confused than ever. Nasir glanced outside. "Men should return shortly. The blizzard is almost upon us."

"I was hoping to visit the prayer circle before nightfall." Sibyl had formed a daily ritual of giving thanks and offerings to the gods in aid of Spatacus's cause. A few women and men joined her to offer communal prayer.

"I would advise against venturing far."

"I will not be long," she said, anxious to seek guidance from the gods. She collected her cloak and walked outside with Nasir.

"Practice caution when traversing path. And stay no longer than necessary. Before night we will have howling winds and curtain of snow. I will make request of Laeta to keep fire blazing to warm your return.

"Gratitude Nasir."

* * *

Hours later, Nasir and Agron assisted in ushering stragglers to shelter. The blizzard had hit the mountainside sooner than expected, leaving temperatures plummeting. Snow fell in thick screen, obscuring view and relying upon knowledge of camp layout to navigate way around. The wind howled, making conversation impossible. Agron and Nasir shouted instruction to ensure it was heard.

Nasir entered Spartacus's lodging with Agron upon heel. Inside, he sighed, the temperature moderately warmer because of blazing fire. He made way to fireside and warmed hands, looking around the room.

"I have not seen her since before I left this morning." Laeta spoke to Gannicus, the Celt wearing a deep furrow of concern upon brow.

"Who do you speak of?" Nasir asked.

"Sibyl." Laeta answered, concern upon face as she looked to Spartacus, standing close by his side.

"Has she not returned?" Nasir exclaimed.

Gannicus took step towards him, reminding him of an animal caged. "You know of her errand?"

"We clashed training swords after midday and she expressed desire to give offering and prayers to the gods."

Gannicus bellowed. "In this fucking weather? You let her out in this?"

He made move towards Nasir, but Agron held him back. "He did not _let her_ do anything. Sibyl is grown woman who knows own mind and purpose."

Spartacus spoke for the first time, the voice of calm reason. "How long ago?"

"Many hours now," Nasir said, very concerned. "I warned her of impending weather and cautioned against visit. She assured she would not linger long."

Gannicus donned his cloak and Spartacus offered caution. "Gannicus, it would be unwise to venture forth into blizzard."

"You suggest I leave her to perish?" The tone of sentiment sent shivers down Laeta's spine.

"I make no suggestion except to call for reason. Snow falls with such purpose you will not be able to see in front of face, much less search for Sibyl."

"This is not discussion, brother. I go."

Spartacus realised the argument was futile. "May the gods protect you."

Gannicus turned to leave. "She went towards the prayer circle!" Nasir called.

He did not turn to acknowledge words, merely walked with single-minded purpose.

* * *

Gannicus ran. He ran as fast as legs sinking in snow would allow. He could see naught in front of him or behind him, with only his sense of direction to bring bearing to course.

He felt panic, the snow deeper with every step he took. He called out her name, but knew effort was futile. The wind thundered loudly, his voice carried no distance at all. Still he called. "Sibyl! Fuck!" He roared with frustration. "Sibyl!"

He stopped, his breathing loud, ice settling on his face. He wiped at his eyes, squinting left, then right. Nothing but white met scrutiny. But then the wind cast different direction and snow parted momentarily. He saw the pyre of offerings that marked the prayer circle. He felt his heart leap into throat and trudged with renewed pace in its direction.

Four or five sat around the pyre, chanting incantations. Gannicus was astounded by the absurdity. He looked for her, but did not see her figure, until he was close enough to see the lone body lying across the snow, lifeless and frozen.

"Sibyl!" he bellowed, rushing to her side. As his arms cradled her, he saw she was still alive. His relief so tangible, he felt a hot rush of it flood his limbs, making him temporarily immobile.

"Why do you not go with the others?" His tone was incredulous with anger. Her hand was bleeding he noticed, freshly cut.

Her teeth rattled; every part of her body frozen. "I must give offering. The gods shall reveal path."

Gannicus stopped himself from rolling his eyes and uttering curses. The gods had yet to bestow favour and see them to safety. "They reveal only your death if you remain on bended knee." He lifted her into his arms and called to the rest of the circle. "Seek shelter! Or greet your gods upon the shores of the afterlife!"

He turned and made his way back in the direction he had come. Within the minutes it had taken to reach her, the wind had doubled in its intent to see end to any in its path.

Sibyl weighed close to nothing, and yet her added bulk served to slow his pace. It was clear that in present conditions, it would be impossible to make it back to camp. Gannicus considered options. He recalled seeing a soldier's fort outside of where they made camp. If he could find it, it might offer them opportunity to wait out the storm.

With renewed purpose, he scoured area, searching mind on exact location, sending prayer to the heavens that they guide path. Gannicus stopped to look around, his eyes stinging from snowflakes that battled with exposed flesh. Then he saw it. The little fort, cloaked in white, barely visible.

He sent a prayer to the heavens and headed towards it.

* * *

Structure was nothing more than a roof with two walls still erect. The third was missing, an old, tattered but serviceable fur rug covered that side from harsh winds. Fourth wall was completely gone, but faced out of winds direction, making it windless - a godsend.

Gannicus deposited her inside, sitting down beside her. "Are you alright?" The area was tiny, so they huddled close, faces inches apart.

"Yes. Yes, I am. How did you find me?" she asked, incredulous.

"When you did not return, Nasir gave voice to where you had made intention to go. I followed," he said simply. He looked angry and she did not wish to argue.

He took her hand and much like she had done for him, proceeded to bandage the wound. "We again find ourselves in pressing space, nursing wounds and praying the afterlife does not take us."

"You pray now do you?" She smiled, a small smile.

He did not return it. "Upon many things. But I am not so dim of mind to kneel in storm and raise voice to the heavens. Or spill my own blood as offering."

His irritation showed and she tried calming words. "It stood as sacrifice, for Spartacus."

"You believe him a God now?" Expression was indulgent.

"It was made on his behalf. To plead for his cause and all those devoted to it."

"I have doubted your belief in days past. I find myself a fool for it," he said honestly, warming her heart.

In the distance, ice broke free from the mountainside and an avalanche crashed snow onto areas below. The sound was deafening and ominous, even if it posed no immediate danger to them.

Sibyl welcomed his arms around her, pulling her close. The terror subsided as he stroked her hair, offering comforting words. "You are safe. You are safe." She had no idea of the prayers Gannicus yet offered to the gods, having delivered her safely to his arms.

She thought of all they had been through together. In Sinuesa, in camp and now here. _Would they survive? Or had the gods had enough of sparing their lives?_ She had no answer, but she had prayed that they send her a sign to aid in confusing feelings she held to heart. And in answer, she believed, he appeared before her, saving her life. Again.

If this was to be her last day upon earth, she would spend it with him. Close to him. Be with him. She turned thought from mind, boldly raised head and placed a kiss upon his lips. Like before, she felt his surprise at her action. She pulled back, breathing deeply.

"I have warned you to stay far from men of my kind." He stared straight into her eyes, his hard and unyielding.

Sibyl tried to convey her longing for him with simple words. "You ask the impossible." She leaned forward and felt his hands at her throat, moving to cup her face, pulling her towards him. She had stopped fighting their attraction. And so had he.

She surrendered as Gannicus pulled her towards him, gently pressing his lips to hers. This time, she was ready to accept him, opening her mouth and kissing him back with restored passion.

He lay her down upon the cold floor of the fort, but she felt nothing save glorious anticipation. Their lips met again, this time in deeper kiss, savouring taste, exploring depths. When they pulled apart, she saw hesitation in his eyes. He was asking if she was sure. Touched by his consideration, she gave consent the only way she knew how. She guided his hands to her gown and meeting his eyes, gave permission to undress her.

Gannicus removed the straps of her gown, exposing her breasts. As the cold air hit her, she breathed in sharply, her nipples pebbling. With reverence, he looked at her form, his eyes telling her she was beautiful. With a tenderness that surprised, he ran his fingers along her jawline before kissing her, his tongue plundering inside. She matched each stroke and thrust, wanting to know him as intimately.

Her exposed torso was not cold for long. He reined fiery, urgent and moist kisses along her neck, her collarbone and eventually her breasts. She gasped when her nipples were sucked into the hot cavern of his mouth, his tongue stroking, licking, his lips sucking.

Sibyl fisted her hands into his hair, whispering encouragement into his ear. She felt his hands drift lower, parting her thighs and exploring the folds between. Her eyelids drooped heavily as she felt a rush of heat pool at her centre. She struggled to catch her breath while his fingers found her core and stroked.

She pulled his lips back to hers, kissing him wildly, all sense of time and place forgotten, sensation permeating every part of her body. She felt release build, pleasure pooling everywhere, demanding release.

Gannicus covered her body with his, his weight pressing upon her, adding to unrelenting excitement. When he plunged inside her body, she felt her eyes roll back in her head, a scream escaping unexpectedly. They fit together and moved together as though they were one and not separate parts. His pace increased until all she felt was dizzying pleasure radiating from every cell in her body. Cold and wind and the war raging outside faded. All that was left in the world was this man and the pleasure they both demanded of each other.

When completion washed over her, her scream was swallowed by his mouth as he drank in her pleasure, releasing his own.

"So this," she whispered, "is what it would feel like to die with your cock inside of me."

Gannicus chuckled, enabling her to feel the vibrations where they were joined. He raised his head from her shoulder and softly kissed her lips again.

_And then again_.


	5. Looking For A Distant Light

**Dear Readers,**

**3 episodes remain. I don't know if have the emotions to actually deal with - and then accept - what possible fate lies ahead for our rebels. Therapy. Copious amounts await.**

**I have been inundated with such amazing responses to this story. Your enthusiasm is so awesome and brings me complete and utter joy. Thank you for taking the time to leave a review.**

**Lastly, this story will weave between what we see happens on screen and what I perceive to happen in moments before/after and inbetween. Alternatively, it might deviate completely if I don't like what happens on screen. Haha**

**Love.**

* * *

"Storm has passed." Gannicus broke word, gently combing fingers through her hair. She lay in his arms, cradled within warm embrace.

"I would wish to avoid harsh reality of day," she whispered, burrowing deeper into his chest, placing a soft kiss to the pulse point of his throat.

He chuckled. "While time spent has been diverting, we must press on, allaying fears that we have met the gods on the shores of the afterlife." She nodded and he raised her chin to look upon face. Her skin was cool to the touch, but her eyes glowed with fervent warmth. He felt a burgeoning happiness spread inside his breast, so overwhelming it felt almost tangible. He did not remember ever experiencing such emotion. He laid his lips to hers with heartfelt tenderness, her response immediate, her hands tangling in his hair. For Gannicus, the moment was not fuelled by lust, but affection. In truth, he had little understanding or experience of such a thing.

"Despite harsh weather surrounding us, I have barely felt winters breath upon me. I stand saddened that others might think us for the afterlife but I cannot regret moments spent with you."

Neither did he. In lieu of words, he placed one final kiss upon her temple before helping her to her feet. Together, they exited their sanctuary.

The world was white, gloriously bleached. Everywhere, snow sparkled like treasures, winking as if they held secrets mortals were not privy to. The icy blanket looked soft, like clouds from the heavens, descended from Olympus for mortals to touch. Where there had been howling wind and furious snow hurtling to the ground, there was now unimaginable quiet and calm. It felt as though they stood the only beings upon the earth, the lone mark of colour in a pale world.

"Creation before eyes takes breath away. It is beautiful," she whispered.

"Yes. It certainly is a thing of beauty." Gannicus looked not at their surrounds, but at her. Against the startling white, her dark hair presented striking vision. When she turned and noticed his attention, he was amused to see a blush stain her cheeks, her eyes magnificent in its splendour. If truth be told, he delighted in her unguarded reactions to his attention. Not tainted by shit and piss, she still managed to see the good in the world - _and in him_. He felt his throat constrict and so without further word, he stepped in close and secured her cape, offering hand. She placed hers within is, trusting. Silently, they started their journey back to the rebel camp.

She walked quickly, aware that he shortened stride to accommodate her, not wishing to slow required pace. His hand was warm, palm and fingers rough – but his grip gentle - their arms bumping rhythmically as they walked. To her, words were not needed to understand the emotion of their coming together. Perhaps thought was premature, but she felt he owned a piece of her heart – and had done so since the moment her eyes first set upon him.

She cast a sideways glance and saw him squint ahead, his brows furrowed in concentration. His hair was pushed back from his face, a tangled mess. Upon first introduction, one might assume him uncomplicated. She had not known anyone, or lain with anyone such as he. She unconsciously bit her lip in memory of pleasure received and heights soared mere hours before. _Was such desire experienced by all? Or had the gods made him only for her?_

"You set mind to thoughtful purpose?" She looked over to see him grinning at her. Her blush deepened; almost sure he knew the direction thoughts had taken. She shook her head but beamed. She watched his own smile broaden in reaction; the lines around his eyes fanned outwards, crevices around his mouth deepening attractively. Her belly tightened and in reaction, she squeezed his hand.

"In truth mind does turn to you."

He looked ahead and she thought she saw a shadow pass behind his smile. "To what end?"

"None as yet. You stand a complex man."

"Perhaps you overthink matters. I am no more complex than a puddle of shit. I have always lived life in moment, taking each day as the gods would bestow, each win in the arena as a blessing to fight another day upon the sands."

"Helped no doubt by wine and embrace of questionable women?" She stared ahead but she felt his gaze.

"You speak simply of matters that were born out of deeper circumstance." He shrugged. "But if examined upon light of day, then yes, it was so."

"It was so?"

He looked over at her, not breaking stride. "It _was_ so." She did not miss use of past tense and felt the thrill of confession wash over her. "The life of a gladiator was but a perfect illusion. Upon the sands we stood as gods. Slaves aspired to be us, women – and men" he added wryly, "wanted to fuck us. But when we returned to the ludas, no glory awaited. We lived and trained in piss and shit. We were only truly free when we fought or when we fucked."

"And so you did both - often." Her tone held no judgement, only curiosity. She had never been to the gladiatorial games, but tales of its brutality was spoken of with eagerness by her Dominas. She touched his arm in comfort. "You are no longer what you once were. You stand proof that what the Roman's believe to be baseless clay may yet be moulded into something of great worth. They cannot take from us what we are not willing to give."

Gannicus was reminded of Attius's sentiment expressed in similar vein. He was moved by her simple wisdom, so his words were measured. "There is a light in you, Sibyl. It brings illumination to darkest places." _Like my soul_, he thought but did not give feeling voice. "You see the good in all things. It is a gift."

He turned away because her eyes had gone soft, threatening to swallow him. Ahead, he saw welcoming faces. "Our leader comes to greet us." She followed his gaze and saw Spartacus, Agron, Lugo and other men ahead. Saxa also stood as one of their party.

Sibyl slipped her hand from his and Gannicus looked at her, his stare questioning, but she shook her head imperceptibly. "I do not wish to risk unpleasantness. Saxa has been aggrieved and needs room to mend. I would not give rise to undue pain or cause quarrel before Spartacus and his generals."

Gannicus nodded, stepping ahead of her. Absent her hand in his, the cold gripped his palm, leaving him bereft.

Spartacus approached, relief etched all over his face. "I feared you among the dead."

"Gods took pity and provided us with needed shelter." He saw Saxa step forward, her gaze darting from him to Sibyl.

"Not all so blessed," she said. Instead of fury, she looked hurt and disappointed in equal measures. Gannicus avoided her gaze, knowing they had said their farewells, but feeling sorry that his actions now stood apparent.

"No, they were not." Sibyl stepped out from behind him. He looked beyond Saxa and saw the frozen corpses of the men and women who had not sought shelter as he had advised. Sibyl fell to her knees in the snow and he felt the weight of her despair, even with the distance between them.

Saxa's stare was hot upon him and he looked her in the eye. She could see his attentions were yet upon Sibyl and he felt pity stir within breast. He had seen in her an equal, a woman to share bed and drink with. He had enjoyed her and respected her capability – more than some men if he be true. But he had never given heart, nor felt compelled to lose it when with her.

Sibyl felt the cold upon her legs, but it was no matter. Her brothers and sisters sat as silent statues, devout in their prayers, struck to the afterlife for their efforts. She felt grief for their sacrifice and guilt for her own survival. Spartacus stepped up behind her, equally moved.

"They sought aid from the heavens, to see us beyond darkness of trench and wall. And here stands reply."

Not a word was uttered as all bore witness to weight of moment. Eventually, Spartacus replied. "Yet in their cruelty, perhaps the gods light way for those yet living."

Sibyl did not comprehend meaning, but felt tears burn and threaten to spill behind her eyelids. She felt helpless and for the first time doubted whether the gods even headed heartfelt prayers.

She felt Gannicus's firm hand at her elbow. "Come. Let us leave this place. There is nothing more to be done for them."

She nodded and rose, stepping away but he would not allow it. In full view of those still around, he pulled her close and offered much needed comfort. She held on tight, holding back her tears. It was time to be strong and do what must be done. He kissed her forehead and pulled back, his gaze roving across her face, searching for clue to her emotions.

"I am alright," she assured.

"I would take you to get much needed rest." Sibyl knew he meant his lodgings.

"No, no. I have rested enough. I would be useful. It is past time for meal, but I would see what aid I can offer Laeta or Nasir."

"You stand certain?"

She smiled at his insistence. "Yes, Gannicus. I am sure."

* * *

The cave was ablaze with warmth. A fire burned, warm water boiled and Laeta stood anxious host upon their entry.

"Thank the gods!" Sibyl found herself caught in unexpected warm embrace. "Are you hurt? What were you thinking? Come sit by the fire. I have prepared meal. Gannicus, would you take nourishment?"

"Gratitude. But there is pressing matter Spartacus would discuss with Crixus. I make choice to see conversation moderated to best ensure they do not come to angry blows," he said with a lopsided grin.

Laeta nodded and moved off to heat stew. Sibyl was unhappy to be parted from him, knowing he had business to attend to. She voiced none of her feeling, but was pleased when he seemed as reluctant as she was.

Speaking for her ears only, he whispered, "Spartacus has plan to attack Roman's at wall. I stand absent full understanding, but if brief words make sense, he would have us use bodies of the fallen to fill section of trench." Sibyl gasped but he continued. "If he has not lost all fucking sense, we might yet see other side of wall."

"He sees the thousands killed as sign from the gods. Use their bodies as bridge." Understanding dawned at the leaders earlier words.

"I will be back for you. Stay with Laeta till then."

"Gannicus, I would be of use." He was already shaking his head.

"I know not full extent of scheme. But I would have you far from harm."

"If I may be of assistance, please, allow me to have purpose."

His face remained grim but he nodded in acquiescence.

* * *

Hours later, Gannicus found himself in the cold, among slaves and warriors, dragging the bodies of fallen comrades into the trench. Spartacus was a mad fuck but his plan to cross trench and breach wall was genius. He heaved another body into the deep abyss, realising that soon bodies would lay level with surface. Hundreds had fallen. It was not more apparent than when watching endless parade of lifeless figures fall in darkened hole.

"It weighs upon mind to see so many fallen." Gannicus acknowledged Spartacus's words with a grunt as he pushed another corpse into the trench.

"Their death stands not absent higher purpose."

"Yet their lives held greater value." Spartacus spoke grimly. "I see Sibyl would be of use."

Gannicus looked up, confused. Spartacus gestured and he followed track. In the distance, he saw her aided by Laeta and Nasir, gathering bodies. Of what he could see, the women made little impact overall, skilled warriors working with three times their pace, but they served cause.

"She has courage and a stout heart." Gannicus could not help the feeling of pride that lit within him. "Laeta also lends aid to cause."

"She begins to understand the burden of slavery. She expressed wish to be of use."

"As did Sibyl."

"Women have a way of complicating matters," the rebel leader said ruefully.

Gannicus nodded. "Things are not as clear as they were yesterday."

Spartacus placed understanding hand on Gannicus's shoulder and both men set mind upon task.

* * *

She had no word from Gannicus, but could not remain idle waiting for word. Laeta had offered aid and so she too joined Nasir in gathering bodies. Hours later, light fading to dark, the trench was filled, overflowing with the lifeless vessels of friends and comrades.

Sibyl and Laeta stood side by side, each asking the gods to bless each lost soul, securing their place upon the sandy shores of the afterlife. Their bodies yet served purpose, sustaining quest of the rebellion.

"It will not be long before Spartacus and his generals make move on Crassus's army. They would see wall breached as soon as cloud of darkness descends."

Sibyl shivered, worried about what awaited them. "He stands certain Crassus holds no legion on the other side?"

Laeta shrugged. "He takes calculated risk."

"May the gods protect them and those left behind."

"He… Spartacus is not what I had expected." Sibyl raised questioning brow but remained silent, allowing Laeta to continue. "He is man of purpose and reason, believing his cause just, acting with true intent and sense of honour. He would take no action that would place unnecessary lives at risk."

"You sound in awe."

Laeta looked embarrassed. "Perhaps it is so. Perhaps the madness of circumstance drives mind to contemplate future I had never envisioned for myself. Or I stand not in awe, but in admiration for the conviction of his beliefs. He inspires those who follow him. I born witness while encamped in Sinuesa."

Sibyl saw Gannicus and Spartacus enter line of sight, stopping to share words with Crixus and Naevia. Laeta's words faded to back of mind as she drank in the sight of him. It had been hours since eyes last lay upon him and they would drink their fill.

She sensed an energy among the men, Crixus intense, Naevia at his side. Spartacus stood pensive and Gannicus shared excited laughter with Agron.

"Sibyl. You are far away."

"Apologies. I am distracted by thought of impending battle." Gannicus looked over and saw her. His smile faded and they shared intimate look, despite vast distance between them.

"They will return." She barely heard Laeta. Her lover was making his way toward her and she only had eyes for him.


	6. Someone Who Can Save A Life

Gannicus felt familiar exhilaration sing within his blood. It was a feeling well known and often experienced when he stood a gladiator upon the sands. Crixus made show of rallying the men, spreading word of Roman heads soon upon pike. There were roars and chants and cries for _death to fucking Roman's!_

"We have a pack of rabid dogs barely upon chain." Gannicus laughed, watching Crixus insight further tale of glorious vengeance.

Agron shared laughter. "I fear sense flees from mind and returns only when blood has been spilt."

"Let us then be certain we give him what he seeks - Roman's to send to the afterlife." Gannicus and Agron shared warriors embrace, both anticipating the battle to come, thirsting for it.

Spartacus appeared at their side. "Have the men take comfort of warm meal and tender embrace. We leave to cross wall when moon stands high to light path." Agron left to issue command.

Spartacus gestured over Gannicus's shoulder. Sibyl stood in twilight, surrounded by snow, Laeta at her side. The women made striking sight, one with colouring dark as night, the other with hair the colour of flames.

"I heed command and move to tender embrace while there is yet time." He recalled Sibyl's earlier words about the rebel leader and Roman woman and realised notion was not so farfetched after all. Affection was etched across Spartacus's face. "I would make suggestion that you try similar tactic." Gannicus grinned, already moving in desired direction.

* * *

"Spartacus requests pleasure of your company. He would ask assistance with pressing matter." He drew Sibyl to his side, breaking word with Laeta.

"Gratitude." She nodded and left them.

Sibyl turned, wrapping her arms around his midsection. "Pressing matter? Truthfully?" His flesh was cold and she rubbed her hands up his back in attempt to bring warmth to skin. "You are cold."

He grinned. "Circumstance I would see remedied with immediate effect."

She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, but her lips had no time to curl in amusement. His hot mouth was upon hers and sought immediate entrance. When they broke apart her cheeks were flushed and his breathing hard.

"We best find closer quarters and warmer climes to pursue more pleasurable activities." Gannicus pulled her along at a light jog, both feeling anticipation sing in their blood, their hearts light. With each step, their passion flared, desire a raging fire in their bellies. She stopped him mid run and wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his and kissing him with everything she had inside of her. He groaned as he picked her up, guiding her legs around his waist, cupping her rounded bottom and massaging rhythmically.

Sibyl wretched her lips from his and scattered heated kisses along his ear, his neck and shoulder, her hands running all over his back, pulling him even closer. Their breath, escaping in rapid pants, sent clouds of mist from their mouth as warm breath met colder air.

She had no idea how they made it to his tent, but once inside, their inhibitions were lost completely. Unlike their first time, they now had the luxury of undressing each other fully. Gannicus set her down upon the pallet and moved to kindle fire.

She watched the flames leap to life under his guidance, his hands capable and strong, coaxing heat from its core. On the other side of the tent, Gannicus's eyes never left hers, his hands shrugging his cloak from his shoulders, no care as to where it fell. He removed boots and all items of clothing until he stood naked, his cock already stirring in anticipation.

Her eyes roamed all over him, drinking in sight, gaze not moving fast enough. He was all hard angles and planes, sculpted by the hands of the gods. Her throat was dry, her lips plump from his assault. She watched as he walked toward her and tried to swallow but her throat merely constricted painfully.

He cupped her face gently, hands sliding from her neck, his lips following where hands had just been. Sibyl felt her head swim as he brought their lips together in a passionate kiss. Tongues danced as they breathed as one, each incapable of separating their fused lips.

She found herself with fur at her back, naked, no idea where her dress had vanished to. She cried out when his mouth, so hot it stung, took her breast into his mouth and sucked, massaged, nipped. Her head thrashed, her hands running along his back, clawing at his sides. She began to whimper and his mouth upon hers silenced moans.

Sibyl spread her thighs, welcoming him. Although he settled between them, it was only the beginning. She thrust up, asking with her body what lips were incapable of voicing. She heard him chuckle, as if he found pleasure in the heights to which she soared, drunk on the passion he inspired.

His lips moved back to her breasts, kissing his way down her body. There was no crevice unexplored, no inch of skin left without taste. When his hands parted her thighs, spreading them even wider, she was powerless to protest. All strength was lost when his mouth found her and his tongue darted inside. She reared upwards, her nerve endings at breaking point, the sensitive core of her body flooding with pleasure. She cried out as release crashed through her, his tongue expertly massaging at her core till every vibration had shuddered to conclusion. When his tongue met hers, she tasted her essence on his lips and it pushed her over the edge.

Sibyl pushed hard, reversing their positions and straddling him. She saw his surprise and then his smile, pure male satisfaction. Whatever inhibitions she had was washed away at the look of unadulterated pleasure evident on his face. His hands made their way up her ribs to cup her breasts, but she pushed them back over his head, her breasts dangling like ripe grapes, begging to be plucked. She kissed him, her tongue duelling with his; she sucked at his lower lip and bit at the lobe of his ear.

His groan of pleasure pumped heat to her core, increasing her boldness. She swirled her tongue around his nipples, nipping her way across the flat plane of his abdomen. His skin was hard and firm, yet deliciously warm. Her hands touched, scraped, her nails raking where her lips had been minutes before.

She caught his gaze, his eyes hooded, drugged with pleasure when she touched his cock. She saw his eyes roll back in his head, his mouth fall open. Emboldened, Sibyl took him into her mouth and sucked, cautious at first, easily finding a rhythm. With hands and tongue, she worked his cock, feeling its girth expand, the veins straining for release.

But Gannicus had had enough. She was lifted and settled onto his length. Slowly, she took all of him inside, unaware of what it did to him when her eyes widened as he went deeper, her tongue darting out, moistening her lips, biting her bottom lip. She felt his hands guide her to the rhythm his hips would set, hers falling into natural beat.

But still, it was not enough. He rolled her beneath him, crushing his mouth to hers, their chests pressed tightly together as he wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles crossing at his back. Their kisses were frantic, gasping for air but needing desperately to be connected.

She cried out, Gannicus roared, his head thrown back in reckless abandon. His face buried in her neck, her hands gripping him tightly as he pumped into her at ferocious speed. For the second time, Sibyl felt herself fall over the edge. This time, he fell into the glorious abyss with her.

* * *

He lay upon her chest for a while before shifting onto his back, bringing her with him. She fit to his side perfectly, as if their planes were sculpted just so, like sword to sheath of its blade. Her head rested upon his shoulder, her hand roving absent purpose across his chest. He caught it and she linked their fingers.

"Does it always feel like this?"

"It is generally pleasurable pursuit."

"Oh."

Gannicus looked down and her saw her disappointment. Her limited experience made it hard for her to discern what a good or average fuck was. _How did he find words to express how their coupling moved him?_

"It is generally pleasurable pursuit," he began again, "but made more so when partner is well-matched to head and heart."

She brought their linked fingers to her chest. "When there is affection?"

He swallowed, earlier feeling of overwhelming happiness spreading like wildfire within his breast. "Yes," he admitted. "When there is affection."

He touched their lips together before simply looking at her.

"I always catch discerning gaze upon me with curious look. What do you search for?"

"You remind of someone I once knew, a long time ago."

"A woman," she said intuitively.

"You stir memory of her." Her gaze asked him how. "She was the rarest of women, a flower of beauty and compassion in a world full of shit."

"You loved her."

"Once. But she was not mine to hold to heart and is reunited with a better man in the afterlife."

"Apologies. I did not mean to arouse painful memory."

"Do not be." Gannicus staved her words. "You prove that such rare beauty of spirit and mind does yet exist."

Outside, he heard the commotion of men stirring. The hour for battle drew near.

"How long before you march upon wall?"

"Soon," he whispered. He saw the concern in her eyes, but she did not give voice to it. He was grateful.

"I would have you make promise to stay alive and return to warm embrace."

He pulled her closer. "Your gods have yet guided hands of rebel leaders. Prayers will see us from darkest hour." He believed; she had made him believe. Gannicus rolled over, positioning himself between her warm thighs.

She gasped when his cock stood ready to enter. "You accept your place as leader beside Spartacus?"

He surged. "I accept only that I may have value to add to cause."

Her breath caught. "To me, you have already made all the difference in the world."

Gannicus saw the shadow of tears glisten in her eyes and put his soul into the kiss he placed upon her lips, giving her pleasure before taking any for himself.

* * *

When the moon stood at its zenith, Sibyl handed him his sword and placed tender kiss upon his lips. She held her fears in tight hold, knowing it would serve little purpose.

"May the gods watch over you," she whispered.

"And you, until my return."

Without backward glance, he left. She collected her belongings and went in search of Laeta. If Spartacus and his generals were successful, they would have to pack up what was left of their camp and prepare to move with haste.

* * *

While the hours since their departure moved swiftly, not a minute passed without thought of Gannicus pressing upon mind. But she held it at bay, aiding in packing and organising of supplies.

When sun finally crested from behind mountainous wall, word spread within camp that passage had been cleaved through wall. Sibyl and Laeta shared relieved look, but both knew it did not mean the men were unharmed. There were cheers and joyous thanks to the gods but Sibyl pressed on, helping those who were unable to make way through the newly sundered wall.

The scenes that greeted eyes were of carnage. Bodies, gore and blood lay everywhere, limbs severed from corpses and heads upon spikes. Ahead of her, she saw Spartacus issue instruction and she looked back at Laeta. The other woman had already laid eyes upon him and unbridled relief was etched upon her face.

Sibyl kept moving, searching the crowds for a sign of him. With every golden head she felt hope rise, only to be dashed when the face proved false. But then, as mountain path cleared by the gods, he appeared covered in blood, but blessedly alive.

"Gannicus!" she called, already running towards him. "Gannicus!" He turned when he heard her voice.

He started towards her too, catching her and crushing her within embrace. Sibyl gave voice to her fears. "_Thank the gods. Thank the gods_," she kept repeating.

"You would doubt I still breathe life?" he chuckled.

"No." She shook her head. "But relief floods within breast."

"As new day breaks," he cupped her face, his tone earnest. "I find I no longer stand for myself alone. As I once stood," he said before crushing his lips to hers.


	7. Living In Fear

**Amazing readers,**

**This week we got very little scenes, but what we did get, was BEYOND the cutest thing I have ever seen. I see a tenderness in the way Gannicus treats her, which is a great departure from what has really been the standard way he has handled the women before her.**

**Had serious fangirly moments when he kissed her at the party. But I think MORE so when Crixus and Spartacus bid each other farewell and all I could focus on was Gannicus and Sibyl making out in the background.**

**As always, thank you for the reviews and comments and messages of encouragement. You are all fabulous.**

**Love.**

* * *

The day they broke through Crassus wall saw no reprieve for the rebel army. They marched on. The walk was long and arduous, bitter cold and cutting winds eventually giving way to warmer climes. The relief of it was immediately evident. Spirits soared and hope born again from thoughts that had too often dwelled in chilling darkness.

Sibyl did not see Gannicus often in those first few days. He had asked her to stay close to Laeta, Nasir never far from their sight. He would find her before days end but would not stay long, needing to return to assigned duty. The Roman army nipped upon heels, so Spartacus and his most skilled warriors protected their flank from daily attack.

Upon a day, Sibyl walked with Laeta and a freed slave newly met, Kore. It was past midday and feet were sore, backs aching from weight of supplies. The three women took turns in aiding a pregnant female, carrying her burden and guiding hand. Kore did not say very much, but as days wore on, no one did. Spoken words were energy unwisely spent, the effect leaving solitary mind to mull ill fate and question the purpose of the gods.

Sibyl wondered where Gannicus was and to what purpose assigned. It astounded that within so short a time she could not imagine her existence absent his teasing smile, boisterous laughter and tender touch. They spoke nothing of their future, believing such a thing a dream. But her breast burst with feeling for the former gladiator.

"Frown obscures brow." Sibyl looked over and saw Kore at her side, Laeta having taken turn to aid their pregnant friend.

"Long walk affords opportunity to think on matters close to heart."

Kore fell into step beside her and they walked a while in companionable silence. "You are woman to one of Spartacus's generals?" she eventually asked.

Sibyl still found it amusing, having her referred to as such. _His woman_. "Gannicus. Yes. I stand so."

"Apologies. I do not mean to pry."

Sibyl shook her head. "No, no offence taken."

"You stand a native to Sinuesa en Valle? You met when the city fell?"

"When initially taken," she clarified. "Gannicus struck down my Dominus."

"He was unkind?" Kore had discerned angry tone.

"A cruel man who destroyed the souls of his slaves for his own pleasure. Not an uncommon fate to many who walk alongside us." Sibyl looked at Kore. "Gannicus saved my life." The other woman nodded but did not add word. "In truth, you catch me with thoughts of his wellbeing."

"He yet clashes sword with Roman auxiliary."

"It does fray nerves," Sibyl said, her concern evident.

"From what I have seen, he is skilled in battle." Kore was lost in thought, as if recalling painful memory. "I loved once, a man who had a thirst for battle. Heart was always heavy until his presence revealed at campaigns end."

Sibyl frowned. "He fought in the Roman army?"

Before Kore could answer, Nasir came running towards them. "We break camp ahead."

"Thank the gods," said Laeta. "I fear this babe would soon be of this world."

"I will stay with her," said Kore. "I have birthed many in my Dominas house."

"Gratitude," said Laeta. "I would volunteer aid should hour be upon us."

"Nasir, Gannicus-" Sibyl began.

"Is well. He should soon be at your side. Come, I will direct to place of rest." Sibyl spared Nasir a grateful look and followed, energy restored.

* * *

Halfway down the valley, they descend into the forest, trees offering shade from sun. Already, shelter to shield from cold night was being erected and fires started. Wafts of stews and roasted meat were welcomed by the senses.

"Sibyl!" She turned and saw Gannicus making way towards her, sword at back, the other swinging comfortably from hand. She took steps and was already reaching for him by the time he was at her side. He took her within warm embrace, holding her close before taking a look at her. "Days walk has been long."

She nodded. "More so than any other. Steep inclines make progress harder, especially with pregnant woman within company."

He looked over to where Kore and Laeta sat with the woman, belly swollen, her face flushed. "Crassus's army marches four days behind us. Spartacus would take moment to plan strategy. We will take much needed rest this night."

"I cannot pretend words are not welcome relief."

He chuckled. "Come. Let us see to accommodations."

* * *

Together they pitched their tent; nothing more than wood and frayed fabric. Gannicus was pleasantly surprised at how resourceful Sibyl was. He then reminded self that slaves were privy to all manner of duties. He watched as she carried a basket to the entrance of the tent, sitting down and unpacking the necessary supplies to aid in preparing evening meal.

She caught him staring and teased. "You would stand idle and watch a woman work?"

He grinned. "Only if woman looked as you do; with fading light as backdrop." He sauntered over, placing a kiss upon lips.

"Gilded tongue delivers compliment."

He winked. "Nasir has gifted us with rabbit. I shall be of use and prepare fire."

"Stewed or roasted over fire?" she asked, gesturing to the rabbit, still learning what he liked.

"Roasted." He watched her, comfortably sitting upon the ground, no complaints of hunger or cold. "I am reminded of why I would avoid you when first we met." He collected wood.

"Oh? I would love to hear tale. If memory serves, you refused to break word, avoided gaze and would not lend ear even after I made plea."

Gannicus was amused. "In defence, you did follow me like shadow upon wall."

"Only because audience with the great Gannicus was all but impossible!" she exclaimed. "You had saved my life. I desired only to thank you." As an afterthought she added, "and your woman would not let me near you."

"You speak falsely." Gannicus put down the wood he had been carrying and kneeled to start fire. "You were presented to me as gift beautifully wrapped." He looked over at her and her cheeks had gone red.

"A gift, if memory serves, you refused."

"Not," he said, resting back on his legs, "because offering did not hold appeal. Quite the opposite."

"Why did you then? Refuse?" she asked, curious. "When you touched me, looked at me, I had not had much experience… but… I was sure you... but then…"

"Heart and mind knew you were trouble."

She laughed. "Trouble?"

"You are not the type of woman Sibyl, I have usually had… _dealings_ with." He struggled to articulate, but she was patient, waiting. "You saw in me a hero sent by your gods. But I did not see self as delivered prayer. You stood young, untainted by the ugliness of war. I have been pissed upon or elevated as god in the arena." He stopped speaking then for he would add, _I did not deserve you_.

"You found sentiment misguided, but it was what I held to heart. I still do. There are those," she continued, "who believe it foolish to turn from gifts offered."

"There are many things given to us in this life for the wrong reasons. What we do with such blessings; that is the true test of a man. It was no easy thing to send you on your way." He lightened mood. "It was fortuitous then that you would not be so easily dissuaded."

Suspicion lit her face. "Meaning is not clear."

Gannicus sent a mischievous look her way. "I speak of your seduction."

He watched her mouth drop open, forming a delightful O. "Seduction?"

"When you launched self into embrace before fleeing city." Mind conjured image of the hug she had planted upon him – then an unwilling recipient. He had realised in moment that feeling he had thought imagined when she had stood naked before him as presented gift had not been trick of senses dimed by alcohol. He had felt the pull between them.

"That was not means of seduction!" she tossed a ball of fabric she had been holding at him. It failed to hit its mark and his laughter boomed. "I yearned only to voice thanks before preparing to possibly never lay eyes upon you again."

"And yet hours later I found you once again propelled into unsuspecting arms."

She gasped, outraged and he felt laughter simmer inside him. She looked lovely with her face flushed, her eyes wide with indignation. He pressed on, continuing the ruse. "I would remind of sentiment to _share final moment with me_."

"_Gannicus_!"

He could hold back his laughter no longer. It rang loudly, causing more than a few to look in their direction, wondering what amused in such dark times. But Sibyl was not immune; his humour a balm, her own laughter joined his eventually.

"Brute!" she said with no bite.

Their conversation was halted when Spartacus, Crixus and Agron passed by. Gannicus did not hear their words, but could tell it was heated – as it usually was when Crixus stood involved.

"Gannicus," Spartacus called. He turned. "Gather Lugo and scout ahead. I would know of any opportunity for grain or meat."

He nodded, hoping to make errand a swift one. He had been looking forward to spending time with Sibyl. Gathering his swords, he kneeled beside her.

"Apologies. I but tease."

She looked upon him with curiosity. "Why then did you succumb?"

Her eyes were soft, staring directly. "I stood absent willpower to resist." He leaned in and kissed her softly. "I would take meal with you."

"Ensure then safe and swift return."

* * *

She skinned the rabbit and rubbed salt onto its skin, preparing to roast upon the open flame. Footsteps approached and Laeta appeared beside her.

"You already prepare meal? I have yet to secure lodgings."

"I have a minute, I would lend hand." Sibyl made move to rise.

"No, apologies." Laeta gestured for her to remain seated. "Continue preparations. I do not believe myself absent skill. I will see to own accommodation."

"You have experience erecting shelter in wilderness?" Sibyl asked, amused. The Roman woman had proven self a formidable force, but Sibyl doubted she had experience in matters such as this.

Laeta laughed. "None. But I am not above learning."

"I would lend aid if needed," she called. But Laeta was already moving away.

* * *

Much later, meal consumed and fire burning blow, Gannicus told of Spartacus's plan to take the city at the base of the valley.

"You go directly?"

"Yes. It is but small city and intent is not as might be assumed. Spartacus wishes to hold celebrations on the eve of Crixus's departure. We now take to separate paths." Gannicus felt the weight of the parting keenly, knowing that this might be the last he ever saw of the Gaul and those who follow his cause.

"Is decision wise to split force and march upon Rome?" She touched his back in comfort, reading the tense set of his shoulders correctly.

"Spartacus sees it as grievous error in tactic. I stand with him in this. It is one thing to fight Crassus's armies upon field of battle. We are not yet of strength to topple all of Rome."

"We fight to be free. Does Crixus not have the right to choose own fate?" Gannicus was again struck by her intuitive nature. He placed a kiss upon temple.

"Sentiment shared. It is why Spartacus has ceased internal struggle and blessed his quest." Gannicus leaned into her for a minute, allowing her to gently rub his back, her hair brushing against is shoulder.

"You speak as leader to these people."

He sighed, resigned to a fate he could no longer outrun. "I find myself as reluctant one."

"I will aid in packing and meet you once the city is taken."

"No," he shook his head. "Follow closely. The city is not guarded nor hides large army." He pulled her into his arms and she hugged him back, placing her lips to his throat. "I would have you with me."

Gannicus caught himself wondering how his heart no longer beat for himself alone, but for her as well. Thoughts dwelled to Melitta and Oenemaus who had loved completely, devout in their belief that they were destined by the gods. His own love for Melitta had been compulsion born from cruel circumstance. He had stood selfish to act upon feelings which would have been better served buried deep within.

Sibyl wrapped her arms around him and he pulled her closer. The gods yet offer second chance. He would offer thanks and seize it.

* * *

When Nasir announced that the city was taken, Laeta, Kore and Sibyl rushed into the Roman hall amid cries of victory. Across the chamber, Gannicus stood beside Spartacus, a look of glorious triumph upon their faces. Her own face split into a smile just looking at them. She noticed Saxa stood nearby, making effort to ignore her. The German warrior passed by, arm slung securely around a woman she had previously seen within her company.

Gannicus made way to her side carrying wine, and together they took in the sights. The atmosphere had turned festive, all around them drink and food appeared, flowing freely. He sipped drink, relaxed, pushing her against a wall, taking her mouth in a searing kiss. Around them, a song begun but she was not sure what it was; she was delightfully distracted.

He pulled back, grinning, pleased that he could reduce her to mindless state. He poured her a cup of wine and Lugo pushed between them, singing in his native tongue. Although night was still young, he had already had much to drink, his face red, a silly smile plastered across face. She giggled. Whatever he sang, it amused Gannicus greatly.

She eyed the drink in her hand and took a sip. Immediately, fire burned a trail all the way into her stomach. "Ah! It burns throat!"

He laughed. "As does all proper drink." He leaned in close, cornering her. His eyes were bright as he looked at her, enjoying her distress and inexperience. She looked shy under his scrutiny. "Perhaps you should hold with water and more pure thoughts."

To him, she stood beautiful with her hair down, the dark waves framing her face, illuminating the green depths of her eyes.

"Perhaps you should get another. This one's gone empty." He watched as she downed the remainder of the wine in her cup, swallowing with difficulty but appearing triumphant. His chest expanded with pride and he chuckled.

"Recall when head pounds upon morning that I but follow command," he teased, feeling carefree and lightheaded. He was sure it was less consequence of drink consumed and more about her. He felt drunk upon her. Her eyes, her scent, her smile.

He leaned in and kissed her quickly - twice - before departing to find drink, aware that her eyes tracked every move. In the shallow pool ahead, Lugo was surrounded by naked women. Gannicus laughed, the German clearly enjoying himself. He looked up and Saxa stood before him.

"You are with little thing now?" He pressed down irritation at her address. He looked back at Sibyl; her smile had faded.

"Apologies," he said, keeping it short. They had already had this conversation. "I did not wish to see heart wounded."

"You will ruin little thing; with drink and ways of your kind. And you again will find my bed." She kissed the woman beside her and he grinned, realisation upon him that Saxa would soon see to mending wounded heart.

Gannicus turned from her, choosing to look back at his woman. _His woman_. He realised she was. _His_ woman. In every manner that mattered. Like starving being, she looked upon him with open hunger and he felt the punch of possessive desire ignite once more in his belly.

Saxa's words rang within. Perhaps it was time to set aside the thirst for wine that had ensured numbing of feeling. She inspired new emotion within him. He would allow self to feel it all.


	8. No One Will Hear You Cry

Sibyl saw Gannicus turn from Saxa, a wry smile playing across his lips. If she had felt insecure about his feeling toward the other woman, it now stood eradicated. He sauntered to her side, their eyes locked. She felt anticipation stir within, eagerness building. She wanted to touch him; she wanted to kiss him – everywhere.

"Saxa would break words?"

He shrugged, dismissively. "Page turned to start anew."

She did not have a minute to process because he shoved newly acquired wine into the hands of a passer-by and swooped in, pulling her against him, kissing her as man starved. Sibyl felt light headed, struggling for breath yet unwilling to remove mouth from his.

His lips eventually made its way to her throat and her breath expelled, chest heaving. Around them, others too were in similar positions, bodies moving against each other, lips tasting, hands roving freely. It was time to seek more private circumstance.

"_Gannicus_," she whispered. His lips came back to hers and she pushed gently. "Come."

A lazy smile spread across his face and he let her direct path, his arm around her waist as she led him out, his lips laying kisses upon exposed within reach – shoulder, nape of her neck, her ears. The air outside was cool but did little to temper the fire that thundered between them.

"Where do you lead?" Gannicus moaned, pulling her against a nearby wall, his kisses drugging. Again she called on her willpower and pulled him along, hurrying this time. They reached a little alleyway and she turned into it, coming upon a tiny villa.

Gannicus looked around, confused. "Where are we?"

Absent words, she led him inside. Little candles flickered everywhere, casting shadows and light, giving the room a warm, welcoming glow. A large tub stood before the hearth, filled with rose scented water, red petals floating within. A large bed, newly covered, dominated a corner of the room. There was drink and food.

He pulled her into his arms. "You made arrangements for this?"

She thought she saw emotion behind his eyes but was not sure. Suddenly, she felt shy. She was not experienced in the ways of seduction. But for him, she would make attempt.

"You accuse me of seduction when my only purpose was gratitude. I thought it best to aid in demonstrating difference."

She watched as his lips curved upwards, the lines around his mouth curving like the moon was oft to do.

"You plan a seduction?"

"I would request one moment." Reluctantly he let her go, tracking movement as she left the room. Sibyl hurried, shedding her dress and stepping into a sheer, white gown, similar to the creation Saxa had previously forced her into.

When she stepped back into the room, she watched his jaw go slack, this time, there was no misreading his expression. She stepped towards him and her body flushed when she met his heated gaze. She lowered her eyes, looking to the floor. She felt his fingers at her chin, gently encouraging her to look at him.

"Sibyl?"

Like jewels threatening to spill from chest, tears shimmered. He ran the back of his fingers across her cheek, catching a lone drop as it fell. "There is feeling within breast," she whispered, "that threatens to burst when you are yet near me. It comes over me, and over me, like unrelenting tide upon shore."

He stepped closer, cupping her face with both hands, locking their gazes. "We stand then upon the same shore."

"It burns within too?"

"You banish shadow, like sun bursting forth on cloudy day. I stand with purpose and thoughts of the future; because of you." This time, he caught the tears that slipped from the corners of her eyes and brushed them away with his thumbs. "Your smile, I catch glimpse of it and my world ends."

That night, while the celebrations continued within the main hall, a way away, Gannicus and Sibyl created a haven of their own. They bathed each other, relishing in the feel of warm water, the rose scent infusing their skin. He rinsed her hair, pushing in closer to breathe in its floral perfume.

When finally they lay upon the clean, crisp sheets, they were delirious with ache. He made her feel cherished and wanted, lavishing attention on every part of her body. She would set purpose to exert loving effort to make him feel the same - loved and prized.

She did not know, but it was the first time he lay with a woman where passion was underscored in equal measures by feelings entrenched in his heart and the deepest tenderness.

They closed eyes within loving embrace, for a while, pretending the war outside ceased to exist.

* * *

Before the sun crested from behind the mountains, they basked in final moments, knowing time marched steadily on. They lay facing each other, waiting for dawns break.

She reached out and touched the markings on his upper arm. "What does this mean?"

He wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger. "It stands as Nordic symbol, called Helm of Or. It was inked into flesh many years past. It is rumoured to increase strength within battle."

"Did such a thing hurt?"

"If memory serves, I was plied with drink."

"Ah. Drink."

He grinned. "Does head pound this morning?"

She shook her head in the negative. "I had but one before I was _distracted_."

"A kindness then." She yelped in delight as he reached for her, his hands already roving across her body,

* * *

All too soon they rose, starting preparation for their journey. As they walked towards the hall, wagons with supplies were pushed up and down the road, carting produce and weaponry. Outside, Laeta and Kore stood, exchanging words with Naevia.

"I would seek Crixus and break final words," Gannicus said, stopping just short of the trio. He was not aware of the furrow between his eyes until Sibyl reached out and smoothed the skin. "You are unsettled?"

"I have known him for many years, when he was yet absent skill, a new slave to Batiatus. We have not always seen matters with mirrored thought, but he stands as brother. It is always thing of difficulty when parting thus."

"You will meet again; in this life or the next." He nodded, dropping a kiss upon her lips before disappearing inside.

* * *

"Are all preparations made for your journey?" Sibyl moved to stand next to Kore and Laeta, but addressed Naevia. She had not had much cause to speak with the warrior, but was surprised to see a softness in her demeanour - as if she were at peace with choices made.

Naevia nodded. "As best as can be made. We march for Rome."

"May the gods protect you."

"Gratitude. And you." Without further words, Naevia moved to check one of the wagons, leaving the three women alone.

"I searched for you upon daybreak, but assumed you had not spent night in hall." Kore said. "It lifts heart to see you look so joyful."

Sibyl was surprised by her words, especially since they did not know each other very well.

Laeta interjected. "Kore but expresses what I observe too. There is joy around you, Sibyl. It does lift spirits to see it such."

"You look happy," Kore finished with a kind smile. "Would that it was the same for everyone," she finished. Sibyl saw a deep sadness within her. She had heard that Kore's Dominus was Marcus Crassus. Such circumstance most likely hid deep wound.

"Word of your misfortune has spread. I was sorry to hear of it."

Kore smiled, but it lacked previous warmth. "I know not where this war takes me – takes any of us - I but hope that future holds brighter light than darkened past."

Sibyl recalled her earlier words. She had been in love with a soldier, a man who was skilled in battle, a man she waited often to hear word from. _Marcus Crassus_. Not knowing whether Kore had spoken to Laeta upon matter, she gave her a smile meant to offer comfort. "You yet live because the gods deem it so. There must be more for us in this life than the pain of war. Darkness must pass."

"I pray for the day."

"Gannicus returns," said Laeta. Sibyl thought she looked restless, searching the crowd.

"Is everything alright? You seem anxious."

"It is nothing. Uncertainty of day but frays nerves." Laeta looked over at Gannicus. "The way he gazes upon you makes it easy to see why heart is light as air."

He stood with Crixus, but he looked at her. "It is greatest blessing to have found him amid chaos."

"It is destined then, by the gods," said Kore.

"In truth, I have always felt thus. Even when he did not."

"It is reason women stand superior creatures. While men may wield sword with competence, we stand superior in thought upon most everything else." They laughed and Sibyl noticed Laeta uttered words while stealing glance at Spartacus.

"He has seen reason, this is all that matters," Kore added.

"Yes, I believe he has." Sibyl stole another look, the Gaul meeting her gaze and nodding in greeting. She smiled back.

"Laeta, I assume you managed to erect tent last night?"

Sibyl watched as Laeta's face flamed. "Agron took pity and came to aid. He stood superior in knowledge upon matter."

"But tent was not needed," said Kore.

"No, it was not," was all she added and Sibyl was left with impression that more had happened that night than Laeta was yet willing to share.

* * *

"Seems but yesterday you stood as open mouthed Gaul, anxious to prove yourself in the arena. Now thousands gladly follow you and lay assault upon Rome itself."

Gannicus walked out into the street, Crixus at his side. Sibyl stood opposite, bathed in sunlight, Laeta and Kore at her side.

"I would hold it as a blessing from Jupiter himself if you would join with us." Gannicus knew the offer would come. His eyes shifted to Sibyl and she caught his gaze, a shy smile playing at her lips. Because of her, he had purpose to turn from past, set eye towards new horizon; far from this war and the man that he once was.

"My journey is towards other path." Crixus followed his look, understanding dawning.

"There is no greater cause to turn a man from battle." Gannicus embraced his brother for the last time, no further words needed to express sentiment between them.

* * *

Sibyl watched Gannicus say his final farewells. Although the day was bright, there was a thread of sadness that no one gave voice to. The air lay heavy with weight of choices made. She pushed back her guilt at feeling happy and hopeful. They might all be marching to their deaths. But if it was so, she would ask the gods to make it glorious.

When Gannicus reached side, she wished only to give comfort. She touched her lips to his, pressing softly, gently. He held her lightly; content to feel comforting touch. Lips clung, moving leisurely.

She rested their foreheads together, her arms wrapped loosely around him. She would make confession. "My heart beats within breast. For you."

Possession flashed in his eyes, his arms tightening around her. "As does mine," he answered in return, his lips finding hers once more.

Around them, preparations continued, farewells not yet complete. Sibyl would be selfish this once, taking what little time they had left together. They knew not what that day or the next brought. She would wrest what happiness the gods would yet offer and seize it.

* * *

Kore watched the couple, feeling an ache at their happiness. She had once stood as such, hopeful of future, secure in affection. But the gods had proven that her path lay in direction not yet revealed to her.

As she watched Gannicus kiss Sibyl tenderly, whispering soft words, she was reminded of Marcus, his touch, sweetened words whispered when basking in afterglow of spent passion. Her yearning for him spread within breast, bringing with it acute misery. She would turn eye to the future and pray that someday, some measure of peace might settle in the space within breast where Marcus now resided.


	9. Can You Save Me Now

**Dear Readers,**

**This week's update is a little more _domestic_, taking a look at some of the other characters surrounding Gannicus and Sibyl.  
**

**Thank you for all your amazing messages. It's so awesome hearing from all you.**

**This chapter is inspired by the amazing _CarolCB_, a kindred spirit who helped provide direction on where I wanted to go.**

**Love.**

* * *

Since the day Crixus broke upon separate path, it seemed as if life became routine. Each morning the rebels would rise, begin day's arduous journey, keeping steady pace. At night they would break camp upon higher ground, unpack only supplies needed and erect shelter if weather demanded. If not, they would sleep under blanket of stars in order to easily start new day as hastily as required. After two weeks, they stood as well oiled as wheels upon wagons. Muscles that had previously not been used to physical exertion now responded upon command. The rebel group managed to cover greater ground with each passing day - and at greater pace.

Sibyl realised that her body was stronger – initially only because Gannicus had been gently rubbing stiffness from her legs one night, noting the firmness of the muscle beneath his hands.

"Legs are firm, muscled," he noted, his hand kneading from ankle to thigh as she lay upon their pallet, her legs across his lap as he sat beside her. "Not as soft as I recall not too long ago." His grin was rakish.

"You now find them unpleasant?" she asked, able to read his teasing grin.

"Such a thing is not possible. It stands fact that muscle now moves in attractive ways," he said, kissing the limb he spoke of. "I catch myself with gaze fixed upon them when you walk and have to be reminded that I yet have duties to perform."

His words brought her pleasure as did his lips, which were at present proving a distraction. "They do respond at command. I no longer stand as fatigued at days end." She noted the same light muscling in her arms.

"A combination of daily…" he slid down beside her, bringing his lips to hers as he settled between her thighs, "and nightly exertion."

Sibyl wrapped her arms and legs around him, testing their newfound strength with pleasurable result.

* * *

Much later she woke. It was dark, fire extinguished hours before. Outside the tent, sound was absent, an indication that all slept soundly or found comfort in quiet time. Behind her, she felt Gannicus shift, rolling onto his back. She turned, curling into his side, sliding her leg between his.

"You cannot sleep?" she whispered quietly, running her hand across his chest. He caught it, bringing it to his lips before setting it back across his heart.

"Mind is occupied with matters of war."

"You worry about Crixus?"

She heard him expel breath, a heavy sigh. "He marches to his doom."

"It was his choice."

"One I fear not well made. He is skilled in battle, but more will come – and continue to come. I begin to see that perhaps there is no winning in this conflict."

She shifted, trying to discern his features but it was too dark. "You would leave this war behind?"

"I would see these people to the possibility of a new life. In that, Spartacus stands correct. I begin to see that for every Roman we slay, ten more sprout in its stead."

He was quiet for a while and she wrapped her arm around him, placing a soft kiss of comfort upon his shoulder. "You have killed many men."

"Many. Upon the sands and in this war."

"I have killed none."

Gannicus shifted, bringing her onto his chest, tucking her head into the space between his breast and chin. "A blessing and a thing I never wish you have to face."

"We are at war. The day will come." She felt him nod indiscernibly. "Does it weigh upon mind?"

"It… does not," He admitted. "Once, a very long time ago, I stood tormented by images of those I was forced to slay in the arena. But I stood absent choice then, as I do now. I had to best men so I may yet draw breath. My choice was to live to fight another day. It was my life." He then added, "It _is_ my life."

She wrapped herself around him, finding his lips in the dark.

* * *

As was custom, she did not see him during most of the day. He scouted ahead or was tasked to protect their flank. She would often see him race by, sending a wink in her direction as he rushed to break words with Spartacus.

But it was the ritual at day's end that she cherished most. As soon as they made camp, he would find her and partake in intimate routine. She would cook while he fetched water, tended to the fire and the shelter – if they needed it. Most nights they would find quieter ground, absent eyes and ears, and sleep among the stars. Whenever they were within loving embrace, the world ceased to exist and time spent was only in pursuit of giving and receiving of each other.

Her lessons in swordplay with Nasir had ceased, only because Gannicus now insisted on instructing her himself. Initially self-conscious, she had been intimidated by his skill. But with his guidance, she was surprised at how quickly her capability increased. But it was not with blade that she discovered talent. It was with a bow and arrow. Her small frame and agile body made world of difference. While Gannicus now instructed with pointed steel, Nasir still advised when working with arrows. It was another way she might help in temporarily taking Nasir's mind off the fate that might yet befall his lover, Agron.

"Your feet move as instructed. It pleases to see rapid improvement," he said late one afternoon.

"Voice cannot mask surprise. You did not think me capable?"

He grinned. "I might have doubted Nasir's skill as teacher. But I see fears laid to rest."

They faced each other in a small clearing. They were not alone, people milling about, preparing meals, tending to their families. Sibyl pushed her hair from her face, hot from the physical exertion.

"It was not so long ago when you were yet not able to hold sword with one hand but needed both to guide purpose."

She watched the ease at which he wielded his own weapon. "I stand surprised at how quickly instinct becomes part of learned skill. It is as though limbs know where they need to go, absent instruction or conscious thought."

"Again."

They circled each other, Sibyl absent shoes, her feet cupped by the warm, dry grass. He raised his sword and she did same, her brow furrowed in concentration. She lunged forward, parrying the bow that came. What she lacked in skill she made up for in being small and light upon feet. She danced around him, forcing him to move quicker than he had initially anticipated. She heard his chuckle and was even more determined to make impression.

He brought his sword down, pulling her back against his breast, their breaths gushing out as stream at mouth of river. He held his weapon lightly to her throat. "You must anticipate moves. Study opponent, understand style, use instinct to guide where you will lay next blow."

Sibyl grinned, swinging her sword and taking aim at his lower leg. She heard him grunt in surprise, but wasted no time. She turned, swinging low, using her momentum to sweep him off his feet. When Gannicus landed with his backside in the dirt, she was not sure who was more surprised - the gladiator who blinked rapidly or herself. Her smile and pleasure at feat accomplished rivaled the sun.

She rushed over, her laughter ringing throughout the clearing. "Was that better?"

"That attack," he said, "was mere luck."

Sibyl agreed, but she would not have him know it. "I would voice caution that to stand gracious in defeat is very attractive quality."

"Defeat?" His laughter never failed to lift her spirits, its robust sound a warm comfort, lifting her spirits and basking her in happiness akin to summer sunshine.

She kneeled beside him, sharing merriment. "I would be happy to have rematch. With all these people watching, it would be grievous blow if mere woman would beat the mighty Gannicus. _Again_."

In an unanticipated move, she had the breath knocked from her when smoothly but quickly, he had her on the ground, pinned securely. She gasped.

"Do you now stand gracious in _your_ defeat?"

She bucked to try and dislodge him, but he would not be moved. She tried to hook her leg around his in order to reverse their positions, but it was useless too. She was thoroughly caught; the position however, not in the least unpleasant.

"You use covert methods to gain the upper hand." Sibyl heard his chuckle as his lips pressed to her throat.

"Methods such as these?" His lips travelled further, bringing forth a sigh she could not suppress. It was moments before she pulled his lips to hers, returning the playful intensity of his kiss.

* * *

Laeta looked down at the infant in her arms, cradling the little babe close. Its birth had been a miracle, one that helped bring hope to the thousands who marched in war. She touched the little fingers, smiling when its hand instinctively curled, gripping tightly. Inside, her heart squeezed within her breast, certain that she may never cradle a child of her own. She sat in the sun, the warm grass soft beneath her.

"Diana rests?" Laeta watched as Kore settled next to her, both women watching the tiny person.

"I volunteered to watch him."

"It is a miracle is it not? That hope blooms in so innocent a way?" Laeta could not help but notice that there was sadness in Kore's smile. It seemed to be an emotion that plagued her most often.

"I ponder same thought; that among all this death, where there is no foreseeable end, that hope can be reborn, spurring heart to thoughts of what a future beyond this might hold."

They both heard the clash of sword and looked up. Across the clearing Gannicus and Sibyl practiced swordplay. At a distance it seemed an elegant dance of intricate movements. Attack, retreat, parry.

"Sibyl grows stronger with each passing day," Kore remarked.

Laeta too was stronger, in body but mainly in mind, spirit. As was Kore. The three women banded together, their commonality slavery, despite being vastly different in mood and temperament. In the end, it mattered not. They had become an extended support system, something Sibyl in particular had never known.

"Gannicus stands patient teacher, although not as patient as Nasir."

"Which might lend reason as to why he no longer stands teacher and Gannicus now holds mantle."

The baby cooed and temporarily arrested their attention. The clash of steel again drew their gaze. "I should make effort to learn," Laeta said.

"You cannot wield a weapon?"

"I never had the need to." Laeta shook her head in bittersweet amusement. "If I had seen in vision by the gods that this would be my fate, I would have believed it false prophecy. And yet here I stand; banished by my own kind, friend and ally to those who would strike at the heart of the very empire I was once a part of."

Kore fingered the little toes within reach. "It is a difficult time for all. Most especially those who are not used to harsh conditions." Laeta gave her a sharp look and Kore amended. "I do not mean it as judgement. It is fact that most here have struggled as slaves all their lives. To suffer and toil now is no different the life at the hands of their Dominas."

Laeta was reminded of her conversation with Spartacus. He had expressed similar sentiment. "What of your Dominas?" Laeta asked gently. "You speak little of Marcus Crassus."

Kore retracted her hand from the babe and tucked her legs beneath her. "There is not much more to say. He…" she went quiet. "He treated me with kindness. _Always_. He took pains to shelter me from the harsh treatment many of the slaves in his home sometimes felt. And he…"

"You harbour affection for him." Laeta finished.

She did not refute statement. "I thought myself in love. I imagined that his words, whispered with kindness and compassion were all that mattered. But it was a dream." Kore looked at Laeta. "I know he treated you unfairly. He is not without his own kind of brutality. But he was never as such with me."

Laeta felt her heart stir with compassion. Kore's heart bore deep scars. "But you chose to leave him? You chose this life."

"A choice yes, but one made by forced hand borne from painful circumstance." Laeta offered no words in return. Instead, Kore continued, her voice calm but cold, its tenor barely masking deep rooted pain. "Marcus," she began. Laeta did not miss the use of her Dominas's first name. It was forbidden to name a master as such – unless the Dominas allowed it – which was unheard of save where there was deep affection.

"Marcus has a son, Tiberius. I have known the boy since he was a babe and had grown to love him as mother, believing our bond a real one. Tiberius, like his father, listened to my council faithfully offered. I would have done anything to see father and son happy." Kore's face held faraway expression. "But Marcus took to harsh punishment in order to make a man of the boy. In retaliation, Tiberius would exact vengeance in fitting manner – hurting father as much as he had been hurt."

Laeta frowned. "I do not understand."

"Tiberius knew his father and I… that we shared a mutual affection. As vengeance for perceived wrong, he forced self upon me."

Laeta gasped and Kore met her eyes. For the first time, Laeta saw the full extent of the pain Kore lived with, her big, round eyes brimming with unshed tears. Instinctively, Laeta cradled the baby closer, needing the comfort of its innocence to banish dark image within mind.

"If I told Marcus, Tiberius would counter with tale of my seduction."

"Surely he would see through the deception?"

"Would he?" Kore countered. "Would he believe his slave?"

"You speak as if there was no affection between you. If it as you say, he valued you. He might have-"

Kore was shaking her head. "Would you have believed your slave over your very own flesh?"

Laeta's cheeks burned with humiliation. She could not voice sentiment that Kore spoke truthfully. As Domina, she had never treated her slaves unkindly, but she could not imagine believing their word over her husbands. She felt ashamed.

"I would not have put him in position to choose, tarnishing cherished relationship with son and breaking his heart."

"Your departure would have cut grievous wound nonetheless. Instead of belief that you laid with his son, he now questions memory of every action, intent, words spoken between you. Is that not worse?"

"There is no balm to sooth pain of separation, no matter what the reason for it may have been."

Laeta watched her wipe the tears that had fallen from her cheeks, unable to wipe fast enough to catch those that follow in its stead. "Marcus will recover. As will I. It is past. I would turn to face future."

"As we all must," said Laeta. They watched as Gannicus toppled Sibyl to the ground, their laughter carrying across the clearing before silence fell, their lips engaged in different manner.

"Do you know Gannicus well?" Kore asked. Laeta knew it was means to change subject. She followed suit.

"Not in the least. He showed a kindness while I was yet held captive and aided my escape from Sinuesa - a thing he did not need to do. I have yet to find words to thank him. Why do you ask?"

Kore's smile was bittersweet, the wet tracts of tears newly shed still upon her face. "It lefts heart to see such fearsome warrior bend to the will of a woman."

Laeta looked down at the sleeping babe. "Amidst this endless war, life and love finds nourishment and grows."

"Gannicus's reputation with women do reach ear."

"You worry that he toys with her affections?"

"No," Kore shook her head. "Any who see them together would have to stand absent sight to miss the deep affection between them. I claim only that she seems contrary to the woman I understand he usually lied with."

"Ah," said Laeta. "You speak of Saxa. Our Sibyl has accomplished difficult task then. She has conquered the heart of a man who once stood as untouchable god of the arena." Spartacus walked into view, sharing words with Nasir. Laeta felt her own heart quicken.

"No easy feat."

"No, no easy feat. But if destined by the gods, it cannot be denied."

Spartacus looked over at the women, nodding a silent greeting. Laeta avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the little baby. She had no idea how fetching a sight she made, fading sun turning hair the colour of flames, cradling sleeping babe.

"I also notice," Kore said, her eyes seeing truth, "that you avoid gaze of rebel leader."

"It is a complex matter."

"As it must be when feelings are involved."

Laeta let out a sigh. "I stand Roman, something he could never hold to heart."

"Roman is what you once were; what we all _once_ were."

"Do you think anyone has noticed I spend nights by his side?"

Kore did not pretend ignorance of what she spoke of. "Truthfully, I think everyone knows. Most spare it very little thought. The afterlife awaits us Laeta – for some it could be this very night. We should all make the most of moments left. Seek some measure of comfort in warm embrace. Even animals seek shelter from the storm."

* * *

Saxa stood beside a tree, watching Gannicus and his little thing roll around on fucking ground, as if a war did not rage around them. She did not know she wore a sneer until Lugo approached, speaking in their native tongue.

"You watch him much like his new woman used to."

"I am not like fucking little thing."

"I was of impression you and Gannicus were only for fucking. You act as jealous woman."

"We did," she said. "I stand not jealous; mind does not understand what eyes see as truth."

"Gladiator has moved on. Where is confusion?"

"Little thing is small, insignificant creature of no great beauty or strength." Lugo scoffed, knowing she lied about the other woman's looks. "No curves, no skill with blade. He will be back in my bed. It is but matter of time."

Saxa looked away from the pity in Lugo's eyes. He knew what she knew too. "I have seen the look upon face when he gazes upon her."

"He will be back," she insisted.

"I would not count on such a thing," he said, placing comforting hand upon her shoulder.

Saxa shrugged from his touch, looking again at the couple. Gannicus's laughter echoed across the valley.

_It had never been like that between them_, she admitted to self. They had fucked, many times, in many places. But he had never gazed with tenderness or broke word to learn of her interests or of her people.

_Never_.


	10. I Am With You

"Idea forms in mind," Gannicus said, watching Sibyl's expression, her gaze thoughtful upon him. They sat beside the fire, shadows dancing with the light, a breeze cooling the air. The camp was settling for the evening, but a few still milled about.

She reached up and touched his rough cheek. "I would suggest taking blade to trim ends of beard. It stands unruly."

Gannicus laughed. "We stand amidst a war and you would have me shorn like a fucking sheep?"

"It but hinders ability to do this," she said, reaching up and placing her lips to his. Immediately his tongue found hers, but she pulled back.

He touched her lips with his thumb, the skin red. "It causes discomfort?"

"A little," she admitted.

He chuckled. "You comprehend I stand a gladiator?"

Her smile was amused as she pecked him upon rough cheek. "Former, yes, I know."

"Warrior then."

"Mmm hmm."

"A fucking god of the arena." His tone held no bite, resigned.

She nodded, kissing the other cheek.

"If any learn of this, I shall never hear fucking end of it."

* * *

How he found himself in position to have beard trimmed, he had no fucking idea. The woman seemed to have powers which stretched to having him do things he would never have anyone do - like trusting another to wield a blade so close to his throat. _Trust_.

She was gentle, having used warm cloth upon his skin before rubbing some oil to slick surface. Carefully, she used a blade to remove the hair.

"I have done this many times." He knew she uttered sentiment to ease his mind. Still he did not utter response, not wanting to move any part of his body. He noticed she struggled to contain a smile, biting on her lip to keep her laughter at bay. "My Dominas regularly needed hair trimmed or removed."

She stepped back, looking at her work, giving him opportunity to speak. "You should have taken blade to throat and slaughtered him where he sat."

"If it had been the will of the gods, I might have. Instead, I performed duty as commanded and waited to have him struck down. _By you_."

"I stand corrected. Outcome leading to present circumstance is definitely more pleasurable." He grinned, his smile broad, pulling her into his lap.

"Gannicus!" she admonished, rising again to complete task. He parted his thighs and she stepped between them, working more closely. He took opportunity to place his hands upon her backside and squeeze.

She gasped and reminded him, "I wield a knife."

Appropriately chided, he let her go but his eyes tracked her as she moved. Every now and then she would meet his gaze, her eyes alive with merriment. She looked happy and it gave him joy to admit that it was in part due to him. Each day he waited for feeling to fade - as such a thing must. Instead, when he rose to find her beside him, feeling overwhelmed and threatened to make a lamb of him. He had never had hand in making another happy, in _wanting_ to make another happy. She was his first.

"The babe in camp has grown so much in short while. Kore and Laeta dote upon him as if surrogate mothers." Gannicus saw her eyes flick to his and away again, as if gauging his reaction.

"It is a squeeling little thing. It eats, shits, sleeps."

"It is a miracle," she scolded.

"A miracle that eats, shits and sleeps." She rolled her eyes and he grinned.

"Have you considered having children?" She rushed on. "I make assumption you have fathered none."

Her question surprised him; so much that he pulled back to look at her. Her expression gave naught away, leaving impression it was just a way of making conversation. But he knew talk of children was dangerous ground.

Cautiously, he said, "I have none to my knowledge and have not considered having them." Still he read nothing in her expression, her eyes not meeting his. "It is something you have considered?"

"It is something _all_ women consider," she said lightly. Too lightly he thought. "Being born into slavery has a way of crushing such dreams."

"But you no longer stand as such – a slave," he said quietly, wondering whether she alluded to having children with him. The thought sent ice racing through his veins, something akin to panic settling in the pit of his belly. "I have never contemplated future outside the arena. I was born, would fight and then perish upon the sands. A thing such as wife and children is not something I have considered option for someone such as I. I would not have them born into this world of shit, to be slave as I once was. That is not a life," he finished.

Silence stretched between them, the only sound the scraping of the blade upon his jaw.

"Errand complete," she said, voice too bright. He put fingers to his chin, surprised by the unusually smooth feel.

"Gratitude." She moved away to place the knife in a bowl, rinsing hair from it.

"Sibyl." He reached over and gently toppled her onto his lap.

"It is nothing." He heard the strained pitch to her voice and forced her to look at him. She was clearly upset.

"Sibyl."

"Apologies."

"What weighs upon mind?"

She shook her head but words spilt forth despite effort to stave them. "I begin to realise what I have been denied as slave. Bound in chains I never had opportunity to wonder what possibilities this life could hold. I accepted I would die in such circumstance. No husband to pledge love to, no family to serve with affection. I do not know what the gods yet have in store for me, but it is almost a cruelty to dangle bone before a dog."

Gannicus pulled her to him, hugging her close. He had been honest when he said he had not thought of having children. He still did not see it as something he would desire for himself. But he knew how the desire could consume some women – he recalled the hunger for a child by his previous Domina.

"It is not the time for thinking about the future," she said. "But here, among the shit of this war, there is this pure, new being. How do I stop myself from yearning for that?"

He did not know what to say and felt out of depth. "You pray that if it is what the gods will for you, that it comes to pass."

"You pray now too, do you?" He heard the smile in her words, relieved that heavy subject has passed.

"Upon _many_ things," he said, earnest, trying to convery much more than his words were saying.

Sibyl ran her fingers across his cheek. "This is nice."

"Is it now?" He pressed lips to her neck.

"Mmm hmm…" she began to comb her fingers through the length of his hair, tugging at the overly long strands.

"Do not think it," he cautioned and she laughed, hugging him close.

* * *

"Apologies. The hour is late but I would break words."

Sibyl looked up, seeing Spartacus at the entrance of their tent. "Please, enter. I have completed errand."

Spartacus smiled. "The mighty Gannicus, trimmed like the finest silk Rome."

Gannicus threw an amused glance in Spartacus's direction. "I but follow command of my woman."

"As it should be," he responded, smiling directly at Sibyl as she removed self from Gannicus's lap.

"Oh! Apologies. I did not know you had company." Laeta stood at entrance, her gaze upon Spartacus.

"It is as if fucking main passage to Rome passes through this very tent," Gannicus muttered for Sibyl alone. She gently prodded his ribs as he rose to stand beside her.

"I would await council around fire," Spartacus said, nodding in greeting to Laeta as he passed her, exiting the tent.

"I leave you to your private conversations." Gannicus said, giving Sibyl a quick kiss.

"Gannicus. I would break words with you," Laeta said.

He was visibly surprised. "I do not know what business we might have cause to speak upon."

"It struck mind that I never had opportunity to thank you for saving my life. In Sinuesa."

"It was but a small thing. Had you not managed to stay upon horse, we might not be having this conversation."

"That might be so, but you lent aid to save my life. You could have left me in the city. Gratitude."

Gannicus nodded, an understanding passing between them. Laeta, her errand complete, left.

"Alone at fucking last," he said, pulling Sibyl into embrace and rubbing his smooth cheek against hers. "Am I now in better state to receive much desired affections?"

Her response was to place a searing kiss on his lips, her arms winding tightly around his neck. He pulled her closer, both forgetting time and place. She was the first to pull back. "Spartacus yet awaits."

"I would have him take leave," he whispered in return, his hands roaming towards the hem of her dress.

"_Gannicus_."

He pulled back and glanced over his shoulder, his brow raised when he turned back to her. "Despite pressing nature of war effort, our leader seems less on edge."

"Laeta shares his bed."

He chuckled at the news. "Women make everything better."

"Really?" she raised a brow.

"The _right_ woman," he amended.

She laughed and pushed him out. "Go. Now."

* * *

Gannicus returned when she was already half asleep. He gently woke her and she realised he was fully dressed, swords upon back.

"You take leave?" she sat up. "It is not yet dawn?"

He nodded grimly, pushing the hair from her face. "There is a small battalion at base of mountain. Spartacus would have us surprise them before dawn, allowing for greater distance placed before new wave replaces them.

She would never get used to seeing him off each day. The anxiety did not lessen, it pressed upon chest until she laid eyes upon him again.

"I will help make preparations." She made a move to get up.

"There is none to be made. Get some rest. We will be back before daybreak."

She stood nonetheless, rising on her toes to hug him close. When she pulled away, she straightened the light cloak he wore, fingering the leather straps upon his chest, their look and feel familiar to her.

"You will be careful?" she cautioned.

He grinned. "As always."

She looked to his chest again, a frayed piece of cloth catching her attention. She fingered it and he looked down to see what had caught her attention.

"_Gannicus_…" she breathed, her eyes had gone soft.

He touched her hand to his breast, the piece of fabric tied to one of the leather straps over his heart. "It is for luck in battle."

She reached up and kissed him deeply, pouring into him all the love she felt. Before he turned, she placed a kiss on the fabric over his heart, the very piece of fabric she had torn from her dress to bind his wounded hand when they had been trapped in Sinuesa.

He had kept it, tying it to the front of his regalia.

_For luck._


	11. I Will Carry You Through It All

**Dear Readers,**

**Heart breaks as finale looms. I pray for tender embrace, words and acts of love.**

**Gratitude for time taken to review. It always lifts spirit.**

**Love.**

**PS: If you want to fangirl about gannibyl, find me on tumblr: sweetrupturedlight. There can never be enough of the squee :)**

* * *

The sun had not yet crested from behind the mountain when Gannicus, Spartacus and a group of their most skilled warriors attacked the small assembly of Roman soldiers who had made camp at the base of the mountain. The clash was quick and efficient, the rebels feeling the usual rush accompanying any Roman killed.

Upon closer inspection, Spartacus realised the slain soldiers did not carry the mark of Marcus Crassus. Instead, they bore mark of one not recognised by the leader or his generals.

"Bind the bodies and see them returned to camp. They might yet serve purpose," Spartacus called to the others, turning to Gannicus. "Their mark is not familiar."

Gannicus nodded, a frown of worry settled upon brow. "They stand fucking Roman. Perhaps one once Roman within our midst might shed light." Spartacus nodded and Gannicus grinned. "Laeta. _Your woman_."

The Celt's laughter boomed loudly. The Thracian remained stoic.

* * *

The day proved to be a hot one. By the time they rode back into camp, hour was still early, yet heat rose from ground as if the earth's core were on fire.

"I will see to Laeta," Gannicus called to Spartacus as he moved away, knowing where the woman might be.

Spartacus recognised Gannicus's need to see Sibyl and set his woman's mind at ease. As a reminder, hence his general become distracted, he called, "I would have you present in discussion."

He nodded, making way to his tent. As had become custom, Laeta, Kore and Sibyl took their morning meal together. He saw their bond as that of sisters, each very different from the other in temperament and look, but finding common ground in shared experience. Much like he had when he once lived and fought within the House of Batiatus. As anticipated, he found them upon open ground, enjoying meal in the shade.

He noticed Sibyl's eyes light up when she saw him, her relief palpable. It never failed to surprise just how much she _cared_ for him. Almost as much, he suspected, as he did for her.

"Spartacus would break words," he said to Laeta. She looked surprised. "We encountered soldiers at base of mountain. They do not carry the mark of Crassus. He would welcome knowledge you might hold upon subject."

"Of course."

He nodded to Kore, but leaned down and gave his woman a proper kiss in greeting before following Laeta's path.

* * *

Laeta walked into the tent, her vision initially compromised when walking from sharp sunlight into dim interior. Her eyes sought and found its objective; Spartacus shared quiet words with Lugo.

He saw her and she gifted him with a small, tentative smile. She was a woman, not a naïve young girl, and yet her heart still raced like horse embracing full gallop whenever she looked upon him. Gannicus had entered behind her, pouring himself a cup of wine.

"You would have words?"

"Gratitude." Walking over, he gestured to the armour upon table. "We discovered sentries at the base of the mountain. Their armour does not carry expected mark."

Laeta looked at the dented armour, its previous owner no doubt ushered into the afterlife if bloodied stains spoke truthfully. She saw the insignia and her breath caught, her eyes filled with concern when it met his.

"The eagle and the dolphin. I have laid eyes upon crest before. The mark of Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus."

"Pompey," Spartacus replied gravely.

"A master of both land and sea. My husband spoke with great admiration of the man, bending tongue to welcome him as Rome's greatest warrior." Laeta tried to hide the panic which rose within her. If his reputation was to be believed, Pompey was a huge threat to the slave rebellion.

"I have heard tale of his conquests and name of adolescent butcher given him." Spartacus's tone held no fear, just grim determination.

"We shall butcher bird and fish," said Lugo who had stood silent till then.

Gannicus stepped forward, pitcher of wine swinging from his hand. "I thought Pompey mired in Hispania against the renegade Sertorius; his absence the reason Crassus took up arms against us?"

Laeta did not miss Gannicus's frown, nor unsettled tone. She looked to Spartacus, but he stood unfathomable as ever.

"Pompey's scouts return to the republic. As night follows day, the man and his legions will trail in his shadow."

Laeta looked from one to the other, unable to dispel ominous portent which settled upon her.

"Spartacus, a rider approaches!" Nasir stood at entrance, the tense stance of limbs giving credence to words.

She watched Spartacus and Gannicus share troubled thought. As they made way towards exit, Spartacus stopped briefly at her side. "Find Sibyl and Kore. Stave panic but stay close until further instruction is received."

She nodded but he was already moving, issuing firm order for the rebel army to assume combat formation.

Laeta looked in his direction, determined stride moving him from her and made haste towards her friends, unsettling feeling only intensifying.

* * *

Gannicus felt energy surge through his body as he marched ahead of Spartacus. He could not believe Crassus would send riders to meet them when advantage would so clearly be theirs. But when close enough to see intruder, eyes widened in disbelief. A lone rider approached. "They wear cloak of the fucking legion!"

Spartacus halted beside him, his eyes squinting in the distance. "That is no Roman," he whispered.

As they watched, the rider slumped over horse, hovering as sun did before it dipped quietly beneath horizon. Eventually, the person fell from mount, landing with heavy thud upon dusty ground.

Gannicus and Spartacus, acting as one mind, raced towards the body now lying upon the ground. Fine dust and sand billowed where body had fallen, given life by the passing breeze.

The sight that greeted them sent chills into his soul. Gannicus recognised Naevia as rider who fell from steed. Beside her lay the grey faced head of his brother, Crixus. For a moment, he closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the gods. Rage and anguish warred within, rendering limbs initially immobile.

He felt a hand upon his shoulder and met his stricken leader's eyes; both stood unconvinced it was trick of light that made each man's eyes shimmer with grief.

* * *

Still cradling her lovers severed head, Naevia sat as still as the trees absent wind to give life and move them. Gannicus watched as Spartacus poured wine into a cup, urging her to break her fast. Her complexion was pale, her golden glow dimmed, the world having lost its meaning. Her fiery nature and temperament stood absent; a shell of her former self, much like Oenamaus had stood when Melitta had been taken from his arms.

Gannicus found himself overwhelmed with emotion, swallowing past grievous lump of stone in throat. Although he knew outcome likely the day they had marched for Rome, he acknowledged that he had nursed hope that the fearless Gaul would accomplish ambitious scheme. To see his head, now cold and severed, light extinguished forever from previously bright eyes, he felt the weight of all that must be accomplished if this war was to be won.

He stood silent as he watched Spartacus take Crixus's head, cradling it as gently as Naevia had. "It was his end as he always dreamed," he said, unaware of the anguish his tone carried.

"In battle, yes. Though robbed of glory," Naevia replied, tears shimmering in her eyes.

With little reign on rampant emotion, she recalled how Crixus fell. Near end of tale, her eyes once again filled and her tears fell like pouring rain.

Gannicus felt a deep rage and vengeance stir within his breast. He tried to temper it, but not before, "fucking boy!" passed from lips. It was greatest insult to be killed thus, without the honour of fair contest. It was what gladiators yearned for. And what Crixus had deserved.

"What of Agron?" Gannicus turned and saw Nasir standing at entrance, his gaze fixed upon Naevia. He looked away, not hearing the rest of exchange. The look upon the face of the young warrior did much to further unsettle mind. _This war promised freedom_, he mused. _But what would it cost? Would those who survived stand able to revel in achievement? Or would it ring as hollow as Naevia and Nasir's hearts now stood, absent the people they loved most in the world._

Gannicus thought of Sibyl. _Would they stand together and taste freedom? Or would one be forced to live life without the other?_ Throat closed again as he realised that for him, such a thing stood as impossible.

Spartacus had taken moment to step into view. Gannicus read his expression. "Crassus attempts to goad you into foolish action."

"Set purpose towards more pressing concern."

"Pompey?" Gannicus guessed.

"Scouts were headed south towards Crassus's legions. He will send more when they do not return."

Gannicus steeled his nerves. "We cannot afford to be caught between two armies fighting as one."

"No, we cannot."

"Idea forms upon mind," he said, almost able to see blur of thought.

"I would see us lure Crassus under guise of meeting with Pompey. And in so doing-"

"Send him to meet the gods in the afterlife," Gannicus finished, a smile forming. "It is bold plan. One that has slim chance of success."

Spartacus cocked his head to the side, similar smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The kind you greatly desire."

Gannicus's smile grew. "What then would you have us do?"

* * *

Sibyl walked back from the river, her nightly ritual and ablution complete. She had left Kore behind, eager to see Gannicus. She had not laid eyes upon him since he had departed with Laeta earlier that morning, the other woman briefly telling her about the impending arrival of Pompey.

She slowed as Naevia passed her, the warrior not even observing her presence. She looked ashen and withdrawn, her lips drawn tightly, her arms clasping her cloak to her body in too tight a fashion. News of Crixus's demise had spread through the camp, creating panic among some. They had lost one of their most ferocious warriors. Many saw it as a bad omen from the gods.

Sibyl wished to lend comforting word, but felt time was not right. Naevia's grief was yet too fresh. She would seek better opportunity when words might be better received.

"I have searched for you."

She turned and saw Gannicus take the last steps towards her. He looked uncharacteristically tired; his broad shoulders seemed heavy, laden with unseen burden.

"I make way to search for you."

"We are of like mind then." His smile held no warmth and her eyes softened, deeply aware of all he must feel within heart. "She has not broken words?" He gestured to Naevia who continued upon path.

"No, eyes did not see me. I stood as ghost. I did not wish to disturb her musings."

They watched Naevia until she was from sight. Sibyl put a hand to his shoulder, calling him from own private thoughts. "You stand equally distant?"

His expression was grim, but his eyes now held warmth when they looked upon her. "Day has been long and news less than desirable. I would spend quiet evening with you."

"Come." She wrapped her arm around his waist as he did hers. Together, they walked in the fading light, each contemplating what more this war would claim as sacrifice.

* * *

Kore brought water to her face, ready to wash at days sweat and grime. The crunch of footsteps saw her lift head and greet visitor. _Naevia_. Her heart seized a little, unsure of appropriate sentiment to give voice. The woman's gaze was direct, her eyes blazing with depth of emotions. Kore felt effect of crippling sorrow that surrounded her, as if she were mere moments from decent into madness.

"You were slave to Marcus Crassus," Naevia said. A statement. "The one that slipped upon Melia Ridge." Kore nodded. "I heard rumour you were favoured by him."

"There stood such a time," she whispered, unable to read Naevia's expression, a little afraid.

"Then you were of a closeness to him before you fled?"

Kore licked her lips, her throat had gone dry. "I shared his tent that night. I took knife and slipped from presence while he slept." _Was it possible to be so ravaged by the loss of love?_ She had only to think of her own yearning for Marcus to know the truth of it. But he yet stood alive in this world. And though they were parted, it brought comfort to know his heart yet beat.

"Why did you not seize opportunity and end his life? If Crassus had fallen that night, then Crixus would yet be of this world."

Kore read the desperation in Naevia's eyes and her heart broke in two. Tears raced down Naevia's cheeks, falling from her chin and cooling the scorched earth below. "I am moved by your loss, yet I cannot be held for it," she said gently.

"We are all held for our actions. The choices we make, the things that we do… and those that we should have."

"You cannot reverse the sun. Nor relive days past." Kore felt tears sting the back of her own eyes and tried to stem their tide.

"No. We can but brace against uncertain future. And when moment presents, balance scale against those who have most deeply wounded heart."

She watched as Naevia turned away, walking back the way she had come. Kore turned away and clasped her hands to her chest, feeling pressure of tears sting - and then fall. She looked around, but no one else came her way. No one to witness her silent devastation.

In the fading light, Kore cried. She cried for Naevia and the pain she would bare for as long as she drew breath. She cried for Crixus and the cruel way he was forced to depart this world. She cried for herself, for her heart and for the man she still loved. A man who stood as enemy.

_Marcus_.

* * *

"Tomorrow, we move to capture Crassus," Gannicus whispered as they lay together upon cool grass. Night had descended, fire burning low. The evening was as hot as the day had been and cool breeze did much to sooth frazzled emotions.

He lay on his back, gazing at the stars, one hand behind his head, the other arm a cushion for her head as she lay facing him. Sibyl nestled closer, her breath cool upon his chest.

"Is such a thing even possible?" she asked softly, her words carrying to him on the breeze.

"Spartacus believes it. Plan is well made."

"Who goes with him?" She placed her hand over his chest, moving smoothly across it to gently pull his face to look at her.

"But a handful. We cannot take legions." Her compassion and understanding radiated out of her, bathing him in soothing balm.

"Marcus Crassus will be well protected."

"This is expected. We will have element of surprise." He ran his hand across her cheek and saw her eyes soften. There were many questions there, he could tell. But she held them back, a thing he appreciated. His grief was yet too near, he could not share it yet, even with her.

Gannicus rolled her onto her back and buried his face in her neck, her arms enveloping him automatically. She held him close, running her hands through his hair, laying soothing kisses wherever lips allowed.

With each stroke of her hand, with each whispered word of love, with each gentle kiss, slowly, he felt the firm grip of sorrow ease its strangle hold. He began to breathe again.


	12. I Won't Leave You

Sibyl watched the children play in a clearing similar to the one she had trained upon with Gannicus. Their laughter echoed, curving her lips towards heavens. They found pleasure in so little a thing, threat of war far from mind.

"Laeta, you have never desired children?" she asked, sitting beside her. Kore, already seated, passed them a piece of cured meat to nibble on.

"I was never blessed as such. Truth be told, my husband was not the patient kind. Perhaps it was blessing I never conceived."

Kore's eyes met Laeta's, both recognising the yearning. Kore asked, "You consider having a child?"

Sibyl shook her head vigorously. "No. Perhaps… someday. At least, not at present. Not with this war and the uncertainty it brings. But I come to realise I would like to raise children with loving husband."

"And how does the mighty Gannicus feel about such arrangement?"

"I think he stands afraid!" Sibyl laughed. "But we do not speak of future. Or marriage." She could not hide her blush. "It is not the time."

"One should not wait to make plans for the future."

"Even when things are so uncertain?"

"Especially when things are so uncertain," said Kore. "It gives purpose, aids in providing reason to fight harder and stay alive."

"It does lift spirits to see you so happy, even amidst this war. But you are more anxious than usual," Laeta said.

Sibyl bit into the meat, the salty taste pleasant. "I will never grow accustomed to saying goodbye, sending prayers to the heavens for safe return."

"The gods receive numerous prayers from you then?"

"There are never enough. But I no longer offer blood sacrifice," she said ruefully. "I say prayers now for Nasir also. His heart is heavy with grief."

Kore and Laeta both remained silent, each affected by the pain of beloved friend.

"Does Naevia accompany Spartacus?" Kore asked eventually.

"No," Laeta replied. "She is yet within camp. She speaks little and eats even less. At Spartacus's request I prepared morning meal. She did not take it."

"We broke words last night. Briefly. She is as shadow in fading light. She wanders in perpetual darkness."

"I cannot imagine burden of her loss. I ponder consequence of losing Gannicus-"

"Do not think it," Laeta interrupted. "He _will_ return to loving arms."

"As Spartacus will to yours," Kore said, keenly aware that no such comfort awaited her.

* * *

By midday the rebels returned with prisoners of war. Gannicus looked around for the familiar dark head, but did not see Sibyl. Beside him, Saxa grunted, gesturing ahead.

"Your little thing." Her words held no bite.

Gannicus met her eyes and nodded in gratitude. She nodded back, a smirk playing around her lips. They had finally reached understanding.

"Gannicus!" Sibyl was out of breath from being jostled by growing crowd. "The horde stands restless."

He pulled her to his side, his gaze surveying growing masses. He was uneasy, especially with her within midst.

Ahead, he watched Laeta approach Spartacus. While they broke words, people took justice into own hands, pelting stones at Roman captives, huge rocks narrowly missing his own head. Gannicus pulled Sibyl into protective circle of his arms, her head against his chest.

"Fucking animals!" he roared.

"Stave hands!" Spartacus's voice boomed above all. "I will not have the boy and his men fall to errant wrath! Their blood is to serve higher purpose."

"What fucking purpose?!" someone shouted in return.

"In coming days, we will clear rocky outcrop, and in tradition of old, host gladiator games to honour the fallen and give comfort to those left in deaths wake."

The crowd roared, their chants and cries deafening. Gannicus felt his heart race_. To once again be upon the sands_. He had never thought such a thing a possibility. And yet opportunity presented itself.

"You will fight?" whispered Sibyl, her hand tugging at his hair.

He nodded. "I will fight."

* * *

Days passed quickly. Rebels worked hard to clear mountain outcrop overlooking sheer cliff. But soon they stood upon the eve of games. After evening meal, Gannicus, still not righted since news of Crixus's death, stood preoccupied. Sibyl had left him to privacy of personal thoughts, bringing cool drink as he sat upon the floor, using sand to clean his swords.

That night, he slept fitfully. She curled around him, but still he struggled to find comfort within loving embrace. She whispered suggestion of sparing contest to ease burden of torturous thought. Before dawn, they rose, practicing swordplay as diversion.

Nightfall came quickly and she helped prepare him for the games. She made him sit while she affectionately combed through his hair and tied it with leather strips.

"First beard is fucking removed and now I am to sit as child while my woman combs knots from hair," he complained, but made no move to stop her or assume task, privately enjoying gentle ministrations. Standing before her, he stood magnificent specimen, glorious and ready for battle.

She did not know what to expect of the games, but felt pride at his majestic bearing. Sibyl felt his eyes upon her as she checked the last strap, running her hands over his torso.

"There is but one thing missing," he whispered, the moment between them intimate.

She looked around. He had donned all the items laid out. He gestured to item within grasp and she saw the blue fabric.

"I would have you tie it."

"For luck." She reached for the blue strip, placing a kiss upon it before tying it securely to his chest.

Gannicus reached for her, pulling her against him and resting their foreheads together. She reached up and placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and then his chin. He laughed, the sound echoing in the little tent. Her own smile met his. It was the first joyous sound in days. Her heart lifted.

"Gratitude for your patience in dealing with sullen countenance since word of Crixus' demise." His arms linked together at the base of her spine, pulling her close. "You have stolen heart in small measures until it no longer stands whole within chest; pieces you now hold firmly within grasp."

She rubbed the fingers of her right hand across his cheek, to the depression in his chin, dropping a kiss upon his lips. "Laeta and Kore believe I have managed to tame the mighty Celt."

He chuckled, dipping his head and capturing her lips. The kiss was deep, hot and slow, her arms circling his shoulders of their own volition. His hands roved lower, pulling her against his cock. She gasped, he smiled, always satisfied by her response to him.

"_Gannicus_," she whispered, already moving her lips back to his, her leg rubbing up against the side of his. "We cannot. You are expected."

"Fuck expectation." His words uttered low and urgent. "I would seek blessing from my woman before battle." He caught her up in his arms and lowered her to the nearest surface – a small table in the corner.

Her eyes met his and his grin was slow and seductive. She felt her insides contract and pressed her lips to his throat, his chest, anywhere she could place it. The atmosphere around them charged as lightning bolts sent from Jupiter himself. Air surrounding was wild, thrilling and intense, the only sound permeating space were their heavy breaths, his grunts of pleasure, her soft moans. They needed to touch everywhere, but were limited by clothing and time.

He raised her dress and freed himself, her legs already spreading in intimate invitation. When he entered her, her back arched upwards, her breasts thrusting into the air, one mound covered, the other freed by his seeking hands and rabid mouth.

"_Gannicus_!" she gasped as he thrust hard and fast.

His control slipped completely. All he felt was her, around him. All he saw was her, her eyes, her perfect skin. All he could smell was her scent, unpolluted and sweet.

_His woman_.

_And he loved her. _

Passion spent, she sat on the edge of the table, her arms limp around his shoulders. He cupped her face and sought her eyes. "Within heart is love that burns for you - like it has for no other."

He saw her eyes go soft and shimmer before she leaned forward, placing the sweetest kiss upon his lips. "My fierce protector, ardent lover, ferocious warrior. I love you."

Gannicus felt his breast flood with pleasure. A happiness he did not recall feeling - save in months since she had stepped into his life – continued its unrelenting spread throughout his being. She loved him. She accepted him as he was. She _believed_ in him.

"As I love you."

In the distance, they could hear the roar of the crowd. The hour was upon them. He placed a kiss upon the tip of her nose, mimicking earlier action and pulled her dress down, bringing feet to ground.

They linked fingers and went in seek of glory.

* * *

Kore took a seat and watched the promised spectacular unfold. The hastily constructed arena was carved out of stone, the arena giving way to a sheer drop. All around, people bustled, their excitement washing over her in waves. Bodies filed into seats, thousands chanted, screamed and shouted their enthusiasm. She had seen the games but once. It had not been a pleasant experience. This time however, she would not flinch when watching Tiberius take position upon the sands. She would revel in spill of wretched blood.

She caught sight of Sibyl and Gannicus, noting that the younger woman's mouth stood agape at the size and scope of the arena. Gannicus could not dim the grin upon face, the skin around his eyes wrinkled with an excitement it was obvious he failed to contain. He clutched her hand, leading her to the front row. The couple laughed as he lifted her into his arms and placed her in her seat. Kore felt her heart shudder at the sweetness of their interaction, the lightness of their expression. She watched as he gave her a lingering kiss and confident wink before walking across the arena to meet his brothers.

* * *

Sibyl looked around for her friends and noticed Kore seated behind her. She waved, making motion that she should join her. Kore shook head in the negative, preferring it seemed to sit a few rows back. She observed that Kore looked tense and smiled in encouragement. Laeta she noticed sought seat across from her, Spartacus leaving her side. It was clear that the rebel leader had reserved his seat beside her.

Around her, the crowd was in a frenzy as Spartacus led his men out into the arena. But she had eyes which sought only for one. Gannicus, his skin cast golden upon reflection of the sands walked proudly, his head high. From his hands swung his swords, newly cleaned with sharpened blades, taking his position at Spartacus's side. She looked at the group of men and the two women beside them and acknowledged that they all stood as fearsome sight. She could however, not hide glorious pride at sight of her gladiator, unaware that her smile beamed as bright as the stars upon cloudless night.

* * *

Laeta caught herself, trying with all might to control the smile that threatened to wrap from ear to ear. Spartacus and his generals had entered arena and the games had begun. Without warning, he slit the throat of a Roman soldier who had refused to fight. Action had set the crowd alight, each and every rebel cheering and screaming encouragement.

She had lain with him many a time and was intimate with his form. Yet there was something primal about seeing him stalk across the sands, baiting his prey with cruel, calculated intent. She felt her cheeks burn with supressed desire as he engaged in hand to hand combat, unable to divert eyes from stalking his every movement.

* * *

Sibyl watched as Spartacus slit his opponent's throat, blood spewing towards the heavens as river rushed towards ocean. The manic screams of delight from the crowd caught her off guard, those behind her almost mindless in their thirst for blood. Beside her, Gannicus stood engrossed, his attention fixed solely on the spectacle before him.

She leaned across and spoke loud enough to be heard over the din. "I have never laid eyes upon the games."

"These are but dim reflection of their glory," he replied, his voice carrying inflection of longing.

She was surprised. "You speak as though heart yearns for such days."

"To return to shackle and lash, no." He turned and met her gaze briefly. "But to stand upon the sands again, to know clear purpose, who you are and what must be done. That is a thing that calls to all of my kind."

She felt compassion stir within breast for all he had endured in life – like all slaves had. To be conditioned from birth to fight to the death, to hone and develop instincts for survival was cruel punishment to inflict. And yet he stood proud and liberated, now taking to the sands as _free_ man, making _choice_ to fight of own will, not by instruction of master.

He grinned at her and she placed a kiss upon his head before his attention was arrested once again by bloodied accomplishment.

* * *

The rest of the games passed in blur of blood, gore and terrible excitement. Vengeance was served to all who watched, even those who flinched from gory sight. Sibyl remembered very little actual detail, except when Gannicus took position. She had seen him fight many times and knew he stood skilled warrior. But it was the first time she had seen him fight for pleasure, fight for the honour of his brothers, and fight because memory of past upon the sands stirred yearnings he had long forgotten. In truth, seeing him had left limbs weak with anxiety, but heart proud when he stood victorious, his first action to place sweaty kiss upon her lips in celebration.

* * *

As sun moved from zenith, Gannicus and Spartacus departed to meet with the Roman traitor, Caesar who wished to make trade for Crassus's son and heir. Gannicus had made request that she steer clear of fray and so she had remained within camp when trade was honoured. He would later find her to inform that Kore had volunteered her own life in exchange for balancing scale. Gannicus's chest tightened as he witnessed horror clouding her gaze as he broke words. She rushed into Spartacus's tent, already finding Laeta in attendance.

"This is madness, Kore. You must reconsider!" Sibyl exclaimed.

"The exchange is complete. 500 of our men will be released," Spartacus said gently.

"He would kill her for betrayal upon Melia Ridge!" Laeta fired back, her eyes flashing in her lover's direction.

"Laeta. Sibyl." Kore reached for her two friends – her sisters - bringing them close. "This is necessary thing." Sibyl began to speak but Kore shook her head. "I have tried to change course of life and mend wounded heart. But the gods presented opportunity to balance scale and achieve desired vengeance. I have made my choice. And I will honour it."

"You stand as sister," Sibyl said, embracing Kore and then Laeta. "You both do. If this life affords opportunity, I would pray we see each other again. Or upon the shores of the afterlife."

"Do not forget Sibyl," Kore whispered, tears breaking words. "Do not wait to make plans for bright future. Let plans give hope and spur courage for what must be done before this war is at an end. Every day, cycle of life continues. Wrest happiness as nectar from summer fruit."

Sibyl nodded, unable to speak. The women formed a circle of colour; red, yellow and blue, their arms reaching to embrace each other while Gannicus and Spartacus watched on, each sorry to see pain reflected in the eyes of the women they cherished.

* * *

When night fell, Gannicus returned to the tent, having lent hand to prepare funeral pyre. The look upon his face broke her heart. Without word, they embraced, standing in silent comfort. She feared she would never see Kore again and he still spoke nothing of the rage and silent devastation that warred inside. But pressure of his arms around her told all she needed to know.

All within camp, even those with grievous injury attended the funeral ceremony. Across from her, Sibyl saw Agron leaning on Nasir's shoulder. While the young warrior's gaze was warm and relieved to have his lover returned, Agron was silent, the slump to his shoulders an indication of a heart heavy with the burden of all he had endured.

She shifted closer to Gannicus, her own anxiety about losing him once again pressing upon mind. Spartacus's voice rose to address the crowd.

"This night hearts lift in joyous reunion with those thought lost to us. Fathers and sisters, sons and lovers. Hold them close. For the shadow of Rome is upon us. We shall seek our destiny together, whatever the cost. Yet let us not pass from memory those left absent from our arms. Those who sacrificed their lives so that all may live free."

Sadness, overwhelming and instant snaked firm grip upon her heart. She breathed deeply to hold emotions threatening to spill at bay. Beside her, Gannicus reached for her hand, enveloping her smaller one into his warm, but rough palm. She turned gaze upon him, his profile hard, hiding deep sorrow. He did not meet her eyes, but squeezed her hand tightly, needing the comfort of her touch to remind that all was not lost.

"For Crixus!" Naevia's voice rang clear, the emotion evident in tone, her tears trailing across her face. She lit the pyre, the fire burning brightly, the embalmed head of her lover consumed by destructive flame.

"For Sura! For Varro and Mira!" shouted Spartacus.

Beside her, Gannicus called, "for Oemamaus!" His hand trembled within hers and she gripped hard, her throat burning with suppressed tears.

"For Diotimus!" she called, remembering the man who once stood as protector, friend and brother.

All around them, the names of those held close but lost to the war rung out.

"For Crixus! Crixus! _Crixus_!"

"Split heavens with the sound of his name!" Spartacus called. "Let it carry to Crassus and Pompey as distant thunder promising storm of blood. All those who are able, will make final stand against Rome. And this I promise you. We will live free. Or join our brothers in death!"

She let the tears fall then, as so many around her had already done. She saw Laeta move to embrace Spartacus, the rebel burying his head in her shoulder, tears not absent upon usually stoic gaze.

Gannicus greeted all his brothers, keeping Sibyl close to his side. It was as though everyone understood that such luxury would soon be at an end. Not all would survive the coming fight. Not all would welcome loving arms at battles end. What little time they had left, they would spend in the arms of love.

Spartacus eventually turned to his brother's and embraced them. First Gannicus, then Agron. To stand so united was a thing of great magnificence.

* * *

That night, after Gannicus made love to her with heart breaking intensity, he kissed at her tears, offering her the whole truth; it began with the tale of a woman named Melitta.


	13. I Will Catch You

**Dear Readers,**

**My heart is broken, shattered into a million little pieces. I think the finale was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And really, the Gannibyl we got was MORE than I ever dreamed. Sensitive, loving, tender Gannicus. He was all about his woman and she was all about him. That love scene... I really won't say any more because it will turn into an essay.**

**In my heart, I do believe that him on the cross was karmic and beautiful. But him actually dying on that cross... well, that's something I refuse to believe happened.**

**Thank you so much for the AMAZING reviews and PM's and messages here and on tumblr. I am eternally grateful to all of you.**

**Love.**

* * *

Upon daybreak, Gannicus left warm embrace to aid in preparations for battle. Those who could not fight would split into two groups and make way across the mountains - to freedom. Sibyl in turn closed mind to impending separation, thought weighing too heavily upon breast, and helped mothers with their children, packing crates and boxes, preparing food and securing what little possessions they had for travel.

Gannicus met Spartacus walking through the camp, weapons for battle being forged everywhere he turned gaze.

"Many a time have I marvelled at mad scheme sprung from mind. But what you now set forth towers above all," he said, walking past Saxa as she used a knife to sharpen point of arrow. They nodded in greeting.

"We have defied Pompey to the north, yet Crassus still advances from the south with overwhelming advantage. Hope lies only on deciding field in final battle."

"We have barest tether to the promise of such," Gannicus muttered, depositing burden upon ground.

"We will hold long enough for the others to slip from grasp." Spartacus's voice was in earnest.

"I will lend much needed aid in giving Crassus needed pause." They turned to see Agron, bloodied bandage yet upon his breast.

"Grip sword and have it so." Spartacus offered steel.

Gannicus watched as Agron clutched at sword, humiliation washing across his face when hand refused to obey command and steel fell from useless grasp. For a man raised as warrior, it was not easy thing to accept.

"They have taken all from me," he muttered, words bitter.

"You will yet serve purpose in coming battle by seeing those who cannot fight to the mountains. Attend to task with Nasir and prepare for journey." Spartacus's words held empathy, but were firm.

Gannicus watched as Agron turned and left; the slump of his shoulders conveying defeated sentiment. "The man is more dead than living. Yet eager to give life to your cause."

"My cause?" Spartacus asked. "It does yet not stand your own?" Irritation flared in tone.

"I am no martyr upon cross." Looking across path, he saw Sibyl in conversation with Diana, the woman who had birthed the babe upon Melia Ridge. His words softened of own accord. "Yet I would gladly give my life so that those more deserving may live."

"Then take pause. See heart attended in advance of parting." Irritation had turned to understanding.

Gannicus walked towards Sibyl, each step lifting heavy spirits. He knew his duty. Yet it made impending separation no easier to bear.

* * *

Naevia watched as Gannicus took his woman in his arms, hugging her close, pressing their lips together with tender feeling. Sun bathed them in warm glow, adding to romantic air. It was hard to believe that soon beautiful moment would be no more than shadow within memory. They would stand or they would all fall.

"Seems another life that I last stood in equal embrace with Crixus," she said, words aimed at no one in particular, although Spartacus stood near. Scene before her was as bitter to watch as it was sweet. If heart were alive to beat within breast, she would smile at loving moment. But absent Crixus, the world held no joy; only the promise of vengeance before she may too have the honour of meeting him in the afterlife.

Spartacus looked to her and then to Gannicus and Sibyl, similarly struck by moving scene. "Much has been taken from us. Soon we will face the legions of Rome. And we will return bitter favour."

Naevia nodded. The promise of blood all she had left.

* * *

Gannicus pressed his lips to his woman's, feeling her predicted response. She stood as sunshine in darkest hour and he realised within moment that he would give his soul to the gods in order to share life with her. Idea struck mind and took root. It was foolish thought, yet once formed, refused to be banished. He pulled back, her gaze questioning when her arms would pull his mouth back towards her own.

"I would make request." His one hand rested upon her waist, the other brought her palm to rest over his heart.

"Anything." she said, her regard open, warm, the sun giving iridescent glow to her green eyes.

He took breath, unable for a moment to look upon her face. "_Be my wife_," he whispered with feeling. He found courage and met her gaze. Chest felt bound tightly, constricting breathing. "Bind yourself to me in this life and the next."

Her eyes had widened in surprise, her cheeks flushed, her mouth forming a shocked O.

He would offer explanation. "I know the hour is not as I would have wished to make declaration. In truth, I have never imagined having such intent. I know I ride to war and uncertain fate, but I would ride proud, knowing I stood husband and you, my wife," he finished, the final words mere whisper.

Sibyl put her fingers to his lips to stave further words. She rested her forehead against his and he saw her chin tremble, her lips pressed together.

"Yes," she murmured. "I would be your wife."

He would never give it voice, but knees were absent strength when words fell from her lips. He pulled her close and kissed her, fiercely, staking claim.

"We do not have much time," he said against her lips. "It is not how I would have wanted-"

"It is perfect."

* * *

With Spartacus, Laeta, Agron, Nasir, Saxa and her woman, Lugo, Castus, Naevia and Diana as audience, the god of the arena uttered simple vows, bared witness by the gods and closest friends. Sibyl had no special attire; there was no elaborate ceremony of engagement. She stood in blue dress, he in warrior's regalia absent bracelets, necklaces and charms and outside, in the sun, they pledged to love and cherish, their words sealed by the joining of their hands and the meeting of their lips.

There was such pride shining from his eyes, such joy from hers that Laeta felt tears fall as she watched her accepted sister pledge devotion and love. There was but one person missing from witnessing blessed moment. Tears yet fell when she offered congratulations.

"Kore would approve," she whispered as she embraced Sibyl.

The bride nodded, her own eyes misting. "Final words encouraged me to make plans. I have made them, whatever else the gods would have of me."

Laeta glanced at Gannicus who accepted embrace of rebel leader, unaware of her longing when she looked upon Spartacus. "You stand lucky to have found love among ruin."

"Laeta. _He cares_."

"Our destiny is not as yours and Gannicus's. Heart echoes that it takes other path. I have made peace with it."

"Laeta-"

"This moment is not of sad circumstance. Let us turn from words that make it so. It is celebration of blessed union. Think no more of me. Focus on loving husband."

"_Husband_," Sibyl whispered as Gannicus took position at her side, hand possessive upon her waist. Laeta offered smile in his direction and was gifted with one in return, the corners of his eyes wrinkling attractively. She watched as the couple kissed; hands already upon each other, despite small audience in attendance. It was time to give them a measure of privacy.

Beside her, Saxa appeared, the German speaking in native tongue. Gannicus grinned and Sibyl frowned, both unsure of her meaning. Laeta watched, her eyes widening in disbelief as Saxa pulled a stunned Sibyl in for a kiss and then did similar to Gannicus.

"His cock is yours now. Use it well."

Laeta felt a giggle rise within and it escaped. Gannicus laughed too, Sibyl able to grin only after shock of action had lessened.

Husband turned to wife and Laeta shifted gaze, feeling as intruder upon intimate moment. "I would make demonstration to willing wife," she heard whispered and moved away, Sibyl's soft laughter as reminder that happiness was not lost.

* * *

When they entered their tent, his hands and lips were already travelling across her body. She gave pause and enjoyed the feeling of his arms wrapped around her as he stood at her back, his lips at the nape of her neck and shoulder.

Before her, living space was simply adorned. Candles burned low, their pallet had pillows and a blanket, newly changed. Fruit had been laid out on silver trays - grapes to share.

"It is _beautiful_," she whispered.

"Gratitude is owed to Laeta. She insisted."

She turned in his arms, feeling overwhelming happiness despite uncertain future. She stood as wife to this man. She had never dreamed it a possibility. She closed her eyes as his hands cupped her face, lips at her ears, trailing the sweetest kisses to her cheeks.

"Time to part is near. Sibyl, it is wish that you-"

She pressed her lips to his, her arms going around his broad shoulders, hands tangling in his hair, loosening strands, pulling at the leather ties. Her tongue found his, staving words. "I would have my wedding day filled with words of love, pushing darker thoughts from mind until it stands impossible to do so any longer."

"I do but as commanded." A smile curled at the corners of his lips. "_By my wife_."

Sibyl felt pleasure ripple from the hair upon her head to the soles of her feet at the possessive heat in his eyes. _Wife_.

Gannicus felt himself drown in the watery depths of her eyes. They were clear, trusting and so very soft when she looked upon him. If love and affection were made visible by the gods, he stood certain that the look upon her face as she gazed at him would stand perfect example.

Absent words, he removed her clothes, as she did his, watching as she moved to sit upon their pallet, unaware of how his passion flamed when she slowly lowered herself to sit upon her knees, bringing her braid over her shoulder. She tilted her head in welcome invitation and he slid in behind her, curling his fingers around the length of her hair.

She was Venus herself, come to earth in mortal form. His hands roamed across the curves of her breasts, their peaks pebbling as his fingers rubbed across them; her own fingers dug into his thighs as they cradled her hips. He dragged her head backwards, seeking her lips, imparting kisses with intent to send mind fleeing towards the heavens.

Gannicus nipped at the shell of her ear and she gasped, halting his roving hand and lacing their fingers together. His heart flooded at the simple act of intimacy, relishing in sound as her breath caught when he pressed lips to sensitive areas.

But she could not be idle much longer. She would return favour. Sibyl turned, wrapping arms around him and pressing lips to his chest, licking, nipping and sucking at exposed flesh.

He felt his lids become heavy and made no protest when she pushed him back, straddling his hips and lowering her body on top of his. Contact sent ripples of pleasure throughout his body, hairs rising in awareness. His hands cupped her arse, massaging the soft mounds, urging gentle rocking motion. Against his lips, she gasped and he moved his fingers lower, gently parting her folds and rubbing against her intimately.

He grinned when her breathing turned fast and heavy, pressing first one, then two fingers inside her. She cried out and he caught the sound with his mouth, his fingers drenched with moisture.

With her eyes upon him, she lowered herself onto him and took his length inside of her. For a moment, her eyes closed, a blissful sigh escaping lips. He watched her expression, utterly beautiful as passion played across her face, light and shadow added when candlelight flickered and gave depth to expression.

Gannicus cupped her breasts, squeezing at the firm globes, her hands urging him to press harder, touch much more. She rode him, gently at first, but with passionate intent. Eventually he felt his own desire spike, threatening to push him into the abyss. He gathered her close and swiftly settled her beneath him, his lips finding the peaks of her breasts and lavishing wanton attention upon them. He felt her hands tangle in his hair, pulling, the tug pinching at his scalp, heightening pleasure. With each thrust, she met him, with each stroke, she accepted him. Gannicus heard her cries and felt her own release as she clenched around him. He followed her as pleasure coursed through him like thunder in angry sky.

* * *

He settled upon her fully, adjusting for his weight. She held him close, her skin flushed from vigorous activity, her chest red where his beard had lovingly left its mark. With his head upon her breast, he heard industrious sound outside, signal that departure was eminent.

He raised his head, loathe to do so, knowing it would not be long. "The hour is upon us." His voice broke slightly, a sharp pain inside, as if heart were being ripped from chest. Sibyl pulled him closer still, hugging him to her.

"I do not want to leave your arms." She had not opened her eyes, denying cold reality.

"Nor I see you from them," he said gently. He could not stop himself from touching her, fingers memorising soft angles and curved planes. "And you must go with the others."

"Come with me," she whispered and he felt a part of his heart break. He understood her need to pose question, even though answer was already written upon her face.

Gently, he shook his head. "You know I must stay that you may reach the mountains and live free of the republic beyond."

She reached up and lightly bumped their noses together. The gesture brought tight feeling upon breast; he felt he could barely breathe. "There is no life absent your touch."

He laid kiss upon her lips. "I have had many women in years past," he began and noticed her raised brow. He chuckled.

"I had noticed such trend." Her tone was amused, but hushed, as if softer words kept the forces outside at bay, forces that would see them separated.

"I did not realise that you were what was missing from my life. I sought women who were like me. Yet I could not love them when I did not love myself."

"You loved Melitta," she said softly, her hand brushing at strands of his hair.

"Once. A long time ago. But it was a selfish affection. One that threatened to end brotherhood." He shook his head, as if shaking off memory for the last time. "You are not her. Yet you share similar quality. You both had faith in the gods. _And faith in me_."

"_Always_, husband." She smiled although tears fell. He wiped at them.

"You once said to me that the gods had sent me to save you." Again his fingers traced the angles of her face. "You were mistaken." He witnessed her confused expression. "You were the one sent. And I in need of saving."

Her tears spilt then and Sibyl pulled him towards her in a desperate kiss. When lips parted, his eyes were moist too. The world, the war, their people, their duty receded one last time as Gannicus, still inside her, began to move; both praying to the gods that it not be the last time they lay within loving embrace.

He kissed her with everything he had inside of him, his love, his rage, his sorrow at having to be parted from her. But mostly, his gratitude for having had her in his life.

When she cried out, he cried out with her.

* * *

Between them, no further words were needed. As they had removed each other's clothing, they now dressed one another. Each touch savoured, each gesture a promise that they would one day be reunited. Sibyl brushed his hair - this time he made no protest. She tied the blue ribbon to the strap across his heart and as was now ritual, placed a kiss upon it.

Finally, he took her in his arms, their cheeks resting side by side in final moment of peace.

"I had never thought to take wife and create family." He paused, his voice breaking, his jaw aching at spreading emotion. "I will love you until dying breath leaves body. Into the afterlife and beyond," he whispered.

"_Gannicus-_"

"Gratitude." Her lashes were heavy with moisture as she hugged him fiercely. "Gratitude," he whispered again and again and again, finally shedding first tears since passing of his brother, Oenamaus.


	14. When You Feel Like Letting Go

Laeta walked from the tent she had shared with Spartacus, carrying supplies to pack upon wagon. Beside her, her lover said little, thoughts heavy with coming conflict. In days past, he had spoken less, especially after Crixus had fallen. The gladatorial games had served as but temporary reprieve with lightened mood.

"Ceremony was beautiful, was it not?"

"It lifts heart to see what goodness this rebellion has bestowed upon so few. It gives my people hope to witness such. Gannicus has suffered much as slave and free man, roaming world absent purpose. I did not believe I would see day where he would pledge life to another." A smile curved his lips towards the heavens.

"His reputation with women is legendary I am to understand," she said wryly. "And yet, the affection in his eyes when looking upon Sibyl… He loves her."

"Yes," his expression was far away and she knew he thought of his own beloved wife. "He does."

"Returns memory of my own wedding day."

Spartacus looked at her, a curious light in his eyes. "It does not hold pleasant thought?"

Laeta shrugged. "My husband had been chosen by my father. I knew little of him before we married. It was my duty and at least towards me, he showed kindness." He looked relieved. "You recall your own wedding, to Sura?"

He was silent a moment. "It was much like today. Few to witness pledge. We imagined we would be together until parted by the gods."

Laeta heard the longing in his words, even now, after many years had passed. It injured, but she knew his heart would only ever be truly possessed by one woman.

"Yet," she said, "Gannicus and Sibyl might now be parted forever."

"It is risk taken for love. Action gives comfort and spurs needed will to live so they might yet stand together when there is no blood left to be spilt. It is why you must go and you must live. So that no action taken by any who is able to fight is absent purpose." He deposited crate into wagon and reached for the grain she carried. "Once beyond camp, you will divide number and path. Increase chance of reaching mountains absent discovery by Pompey."

Laeta spoke mind, knowing it was impossibility, hoping he would reconsider. "I would count fortune more assured were you to lead us."

"Crassus must be given pause so that you and the others may slip beyond grasp." Answer she had expected. She would not admire him so if he did not stand by principled conviction.

"We will wait for you then, at foot of the mountains." She would not give up hope that they might all yet live.

"I would not have it so." Frown appeared upon his face, disapproval at suggestion.

"Am I not free, to make own choice?" Her words were sharp; she did not mean them to be as such. But nerves were frayed and heart heavy with knowledge that she might never see him again.

"As you frequently remind." His expression held great affection. She had often seen him look upon her as such. "Yet, do not hazard life in hopes that I yet cling to my own."

Laeta felt heart trip, knowing he accepted and embraced possibility of death. Even absent surety of his love, she felt sadness at prospect of world without him in it. "You will not fall in battle against Crassus," she whispered urgently.

"You now hold powers to pierce futures uncertain veil?" Indulgent smile was back.

"I hold but faith in a man like no other," she said in truth.

He reached for her hand, his fingers firm but cold. She wrapped her own hands around his, giving warmth.

"Gratitude," he began. "For your words and for what comfort your presence has given." Laeta felt terrible emotion threaten to overwhelm. Instead, she called upon self-control and smiled at him, her eyes conveying only her gratitude at having been blessed with knowing him.

"Come," he said gently. Pulling her along to address gathering crowd.

Naevia stepped close. "They are readied for journey."

Laeta felt dread settle in the pit of stomach, knowing separation for all stood now moments away. Inside, world was crumbling slowly and might never be righted again. Lips trembled she and braced nerves.

"My friends, the time of our parting has come," Spartacus began, voice carrying to all in attendance.

Laeta watched as Gannicus wiped at Sibyl's tears, kissing her temple, his hands at her back, rubbing in soothing motion. Her despair increased at thought that new love would so rudely be forced to separate.

"Know that you will be heavy upon thought when we face Crassus and his legions. Many of us will fall. There remains strategy nor deception that can bend course of inevitable fate. Yet know that our blood will purchase needed opportunity for you to gain mountain path beyond the snapping jaws of Rome that have plagued us with death and misery."

All around, silence was heavy and grave, all standing clutching their lovers, friends and remaining family close.

"Part ways and _live free_." His words were passionate in their command, making sentiment clear that it was their duty to live, and in so doing, honour sacrifice made by all those who go to battle.

Diana, carrying recently birthed babe stepped forward, staving movement by placing gentle hand upon his arm. "Gratitude. For all you have done." Words were heartfelt and sincere.

Laeta saw the surprise flicker upon his face, his own smile tentative but gentle in return. Slowly, cries of thanks flooded from all. People clamoured to touch him, bestowing blessings and offering prayers to the gods. For his sacrifice. For his courage. For his leadership. For his valour. And for his life.

Laeta felt her heart shatter.

* * *

As Gannicus looked down at Sibyl, he knew she recalled same words whispered earlier. Her eyes were swollen and her face flushed, but her saw her acceptance and courageous resolve. He felt relief and deepest pride sweep through him. She would weather storm and they would be reunited - in this world, or the next. Such assured knowledge gave him peace at last. He would go to battle. And his wife would live free.

Sound of hooves beating upon ground called attention as path cleared for rider upon steed. Castus approached upon mount. "Roman scouts have laid eyes upon us to the south of the valley," he reported to Spartacus. Gannicus felt tension within crowd escalate and his grip on Sibyl tightened.

"What markings did they bare?" Spartacus stepped forward.

"Fearsome bull upon chest."

Spartacus turned to his people for the last time, issuing order with authority. "Set upon path and do not turn from it! Go!" he ordered.

"It is not farewell." Gannicus punctuated each word with gentle kiss, their faces close. His own heart stood heavy, calling upon warrior's courage to present brave front for her. "I will fight to dying breath to see you again." He knew she understood his meaning when her jaw trembled_. In the afterlife_. "Do not look back, Sibyl. Keep eyes ahead. Towards bright future."

"_Our_ future. Gannicus, we have made plans," she reminded him.

"And I would honour them wife. Go."

With final embrace, she wrenched herself from his arms, agony in her eyes almost his undoing. With her back turned towards him, he finally let pain of their separation flood him, momentarily knocking breath from body.

His hands curled into fists as he watched his wife - his heart - take leave. His resolve strengthened. Roman blood would spill for creating necessity.

* * *

"I shall lend prayer towards the end of Crassus and the triumph of Spartacus." Laeta leaned in and placed soft kiss upon her lover's lips, sure that it would be the last time she would stand able to do such.

He cupped her face gently before letting her go. She straightened spine and reached for Sibyl. Together, they would face painful journey and foster what little hope they dared.

* * *

Before nightfall, rider approached and brought word of Crassus request to meet with Spartacus. Reason for meeting stood mystery, but Spartacus, intrigued with entreaty, took trusted few to make journey to meet upon higher ground.

Upon their return, he retreated to his tent, pouring over final preparations before battle. Heart was heavy, but conviction that what lay before him was decision correctly embraced helped provide soothing balm. Whatever the gods would will, he stood ready and accepting. He would fight a free man and embrace death as such.

Eyes gazed upon map before him, seeking until it found purpose. _Thracia_. How far removed he now stood from where he had once come. A different man with a different path; leader to thousands, their fates tied irrevocably to his own. He ran fingers across letters, allowing mind to wonder about what might have been had wife not been slain.

"It is heavy burden… to gaze at wars end and weigh bitter cost of it." Gannicus stood at tent's entrance. Spartacus motioned for him to enter, not surprised by his company. Nasir and Agron likely spent remaining hours in lovers' embrace. Since Crixus fell, Naevia preferred solitude to company and the German's sought comfort from drink and women.

"You do not believe that we can defeat Crassus." It was statement as Gannicus took seat opposite him and chuckled.

"You are forever conjuring impossible and I would not wager against you in a final gambit and yet... odds are not of a favour."

"No. They are not." They both stood with equal mind and knew what awaited at wars end.

"I would offer drink to lift spirits, but I have turned from it of late."

Spartacus raised brow. "A thing not escaping notice." Gannicus lowered head, almost embarrassed. "I too turned from wilder pursuits when possessed by purist heart."

"You speak of your wife." The Celt stood in wholehearted agreement of sentiment.

It was unusual thing for him to share personal tale. But here, staring at journeys end, it seemed fitting to break words with the man he knew shortest time, but now stood closest to his side. "When we first lay together, she told of how the gods delivered oracle in her dreams and foretold that I would never love another woman."

Gannicus smiled. "Did prophecy hold true?"

"I found comfort in others." Chuckle broke forth. "Yet, there is an emptiness that can never be filled. The void left, where heart once beat when Sura was taken from me."

Spartacus saw Gannicus lose himself in own thoughts, knowing feeling now rested within his breast too. Wife yet alive, yet likely parted in this life forever.

"You once questioned how victory could be defined. I thought answer held in Roman deaths."

"Position no longer taken?"

"_Life_ is what defines it," his words urgent, knowing next words would help hold sway upon request he needed to make. "Not the death of Romans nor ours or those that follow us into battle. But the life of Sibyl-" He saw longing flash across face. "-of Laeta, the mother and her child. So many others. They are all Sura. _And I would see them live_."

Without hesitation, Gannicus said, "a cause even I can embrace."

"If we are to give the others any chance against Crassus, you must do more than embrace it." He saw the doubt cloud eyes of his brother. "_You must lead_."

Gannicus shook head and stood. "An old argument, Spartacus."

"One that must now stand settled! I cannot do this without you assuming rightful position."

Gannicus stared out at the darkened sky, Spartacus in no doubt he thought upon where his wife now lay, what she was doing, whether she had taken nourishment, slept absent cold, sure she wondered the same of him too.

Spartacus pressed advantage. "One that there is none more deserving of."

Although he said no more, sentiment echoed across the room as if given voice. If Gannicus would have chance of ever gazing upon loving wife again in this life, he would have to turn from fears and do what was requested.

The Celt turned, his eyes blazing with a fire Spartacus had yearned to see. "What would you have me do?"

Spartacus smiled, uttering words he knew would appeal. "The impossible." He moved to embrace his brother. "For your wife, Sibyl."

Gannicus nodded. "For Sura."

* * *

Sibyl and Laeta lay in the quiet, the camp absent sound. They had erected small shelter and now took rest together. All around, everyone mourned the losses they knew would come. In her heart, she knew his death was almost certain. The crushing pain knowledge left in its wake made it almost impossible to breathe. They had walked with swift pace, placing as much distance between themselves and Crassus legions. But also distance between friends and lovers. Between a husband and his wife.

She pinched her eyes closed and remembered his touch. _Had it been mere hours since they had made love? Since she had felt him move inside of her, his hands and mouth giving sweetest pleasure?_ It felt as lifetime stood between their wedding and cold reality of life absent his touch, his warm smile, teasing words, the smell of his skin, his loving embrace.

"If the gods will it, they will return to us," Laeta whispered, her throat raw from tears shed.

"I pray it is so." She signed heavily. "It seems cruelty to have found love only to have it ripped from tender embrace."

"It stands as blessing. Your husband holds fierce love within breast. It will offer courage and protection."

"And Spartacus?"

"I may offer love, but his heart cannot be pierced. It was given to one woman a long time ago, and he has never recovered from loss of losing her."

"Oh Laeta. Apologies for asking."

"I choose to see blessing instead of tragedy. We were able to find comfort with each other, to give and receive pleasure, to stand as companion and council."

"I would not lose husband newly gained."

Sibyl turned and hugged her friend close, both reciting prayers, clutching desperately at each other. Eventually, tortured slumber claimed them, dreams filled with blood and pain.


	15. Because You're Not Alone

The day of battle dawned and Gannicus sent a prayer to the heavens. It had been years since he had done such, but he made offering now. His life no longer stood as his own and he would seek divine intervention if it would ensure her safety.

Outside his tent he heard Lugo and he stepped to meet the German. By his side stood the person he sought.

"Apologies," he interrupted. "I would break words."

Lugo nodded and moved on, saying something to Saxa in their tongue that he failed to understand. He truly did prefer the bliss of ignorance.

"Spartacus has devised mad scheme. He would have me lead small legion and attack Crassus from rear position. I would request your presence as my second."

Gannicus saw her surprise. "You lead?"

His jaw tightened. "I do."

"You always say you never lead."

"I have said many things. In this, I was wrong."

She cocked her head to the side and he felt as specimen examined by a medicus. "You lead for her. In honour of wife."

"It stands among my reasons." He nodded, not wanting to discuss Sibyl. "Would you stand as my second?"

She thought a minute, then gave a brisk nod.

"Gratitude. We leave upon the hour." He felt her gaze upon his back as he left and was not surprised to hear question.

"Why you choose me?"

He did not break stride. "Because you would rival any fucking man." He did not know it, but smile broke upon her lips.

* * *

All around him, effects of the war were never more clear. As if time stood still, Gannicus saw flame consume Lugo, the ferocious warrior still swinging hammer with deadly intent - even after flames ate flesh from within.

He watched Saxa knocked towards ground, a spear entering one end of her body and exiting the other. He took her into his arms, no words of comfort finding path past his lips. He heard her speak final words in her native tongue, regretting within moment that he had not taken time to learn. When she closed her eyes, he felt rage at the hopelessness of task that lay before him.

Finally, he watched, powerless, as Naevia fell to Caesar's sword, her eyes moving towards the heaven – he knew, towards Crixus who awaited her upon painless shores.

He looked for Spartacus, but did not see sign of his form. Around him, their numbers dwindled, mere hundreds left and easily overcome by thousands that Crassus yet commanded.

He made way towards Caesar, intent to take the Roman from this world as final deed. Despite best attempt, numbers were not in his favour. He fought bravely, but eventually, absent sword, he fell to his knees, exhaustion and pain overriding force. He would yet find courage to spit in the face of the cowardly Roman, but a blow to the head meant he fell into darkness before purpose was fulfilled.

* * *

When Gannicus woke, he was upon a wagon, bound tightly, absent sword or weapon. Close to him, packed tightly were other captured rebels, their fates stood similar. When eyes rose to ascertain destination, dread fell into pit of his stomach. They travelled upon Appian Way, each side of path baring slaves already upon wooden cross.

For a moment, he felt rising panic. He would gladly die upon field of battle. But to be strung up, so humiliated, not afforded the opportunity of honourable death, he felt hatred simmer then boil as kettle upon roaring fire.

It took five soldiers to move him, two unable to control the fight he was yet capable of. But when he was held and then laid upon the cross, there was fear – the first he had felt in many years. He had always been comfortable upon the sands. Fighting had been a way of life. To be now robbed of dignity was thing he could not bear. In distant corner of his heart, he wept. Not because of the pain he anticipated, but for the loss of hope he had held for a future now far removed.

_Sibyl._

When first nail pierced skin, he would give them no satisfaction and vowed to remain silent. A vow he was forced to break. The feeling so painful, he let out a roar, his breath leaving body in rapid heaves in attempt to control flood of pure agony.

_Sibyl._

When hammer struck again, there was nothing he could do to brace for it. He was not sure if he screamed; for a while it seemed as though pain would drive him to madness, his entire body were aflame, no area absent excruciating pain.

_Sibyl._

Yet, when hammer was laid down, he was hoisted high and sight returned to fevered mind overcome with torment. Beside him, he saw Kore and felt hot tears spill from his eyes. It fell now not because of excruciating agony, but for the knowledge that Sibyl would never see husband nor sister again. Even at distance, he saw her ashen face, tears racing like endless flock of birds, life draining from her with every breath. Below, the fucking coward Caesar stood proud. But Crassus, eyes fixed upon his former slave and lover, showed little sign of victorious leader.

They had all lost much in this war. As pain overwhelmed, he felt death's breath whisper to him. His wife's face filled vision, her smell surrounded as if she stood before him, pain momentarily fading with thought of her touch. He sent prayers to the gods that his death would not be in vain; that though he might be absent from her life as husband, that she may yet live a full life, free from bonds of slavery and lash of unforgiving master.

_I love you_, his mind whispered, hot tears racing from his eyes with no power to hold them back. Pain now receded as he felt life spill from him like rain from stormy clouds.

The sun, mocking in its intensity, sparkled bright and shone upon his face. Gannicus raised head, eyes bulging at sight of trusted friend, truest brother, beloved Oenamaus. Tall and proud, his brother smiled, calm and welcoming, offering safe passage and companionship to the afterlife.

Gannicus blinked once, twice, but vision stood permanent. Gone were the slaves upon crosses. Gone was Kore beside him. Instead, before him stood the arena in Capua, filled to its capacity with Romans and slaves - as equals. Upon the sands he stood - and they cheered, chanted and shouted his name in rapturous glory.

_Gannicus! Gannicus! Gannicus!_

He had come home. Before death took hold, the gods had granted favour and he had come home. He uttered final prayer, took deep breath and mustered final vestiges of spent energy. He roared. Loud. Feral. A proud warrior. He roared for the crowd, he roared for his fallen brothers, he roared for all they had lost, he roared for all they might gain.

Finally, spent, he closed eyes and saw her, felt her, her hand upon his face, whispering that he had been strong for long enough. That she loved him. That she was safe and that everything would be alright.

_I love you_, he whispered, but voice stood absent, lips failed to move. With smile upon face, Gannicus, god of the arena closed eyes and embraced darkness.

* * *

"He yet lives!" Agron called and Laeta's eyes shifted back to Spartacus. "We gained the mountains."

Lying in the dirt upon mountainside, the sun was fading as she watched his eyes flick open, the vigorous flush of life already draining from him. "We waited for you. As promised," she whispered, knowing the end was not far. Gently, he wraped his fingers around hers and they held tightly.

"All safe?" he asked, voice mere shadow of previous commanding force.

"Pompey set upon other half. Many were lost," Agron whispered.

Laeta saw his eyes dart to Sibyl and she knew his intent. Gannicus had fallen. Beside her, she heard Sibyl begin to weep silently.

There was not much time. To Agron and Nasir Laeta said, "we must see him to mountain path before we too are discovered." They made attempt to lift him, but it was obvious that pain coursing through body was excruciating.

"Stay hand!" Spartacus beseeched. "I would rest a while." Laeta's eyes filled, as did Nasir's and Agrons. They realised that this was the end.

"We cannot stay here," Nasir whispered urgently.

"No, you cannot. Nor can I follow," their leader whispered.

Tears fell unbidden from her eyes and she watched as he closed his eyes. She would not have him leave. Laeta called his name sharply, twice, calling him back to her. His eyes snapped open, but it was short reprieve. Already his skin began to pale as blood yet seeped from body.

"Spartacus," he whispered. "That is not my name. I shall finally hear it again, given voice by loving wife in greeting longed for."

Somewhere inside of her, Laeta's heart lifted, knowing that he would soon attain desired wish, even if it meant he no longer walked among the living.

Tears fell from Agron's face and Spartacus left Laeta's hand to embrace that of oldest friend.

"Do not shed tear," he entreated. "There is no greater victory that to fall from this world a free man."

As clouds drew near, light left his eyes and final breath exhaled. Around them, the heavens opened up, as if the gods welcomed home beloved son - the bringer of rain.

Laeta felt shock and emptiness, as if moment were dream and she would awake beside him as she had so often done. But it was not a dream. The man she loved, the man they all loved had left this life and now stood within welcoming embrace of loving wife. She reached for Sibyl, each numbed by pain so heavy it threatened to rip organ from breast.

Laeta watched as gently, Agron closed his brother's eyes, now cold where they had once stood brilliant and blue.

"One day," he whispered, "Rome shall fade and crumble, yet you shall always be remembered in the hearts of all who yearn for freedom."

He leaned down and placed a kiss upon his forehead.

* * *

Quickly, but with loving care, the handful of his people that remained buried him so deep that no one would dare suspect, Agron's shield as marker. Sibyl stood beside Laeta and both women spent moment saying personal prayer. Laeta had lost a love that was never really her own. But she, she had lost her love, her husband - it felt like her life. Sibyl's heart stood frozen, as though ice and snow they had managed to survive now took root and spread. Within recess of mind, she heard his words. _Do not look back_.

"They have all made sacrifice, so we may live," she whispered. Laeta clasped her hand tightly.

_For Gannicus, she would make effort to live life._

* * *

In passing weeks, they crossed mountain swiftly. Hearts were heavy, but courage slowly restored with memory of all they had lost and all who had sacrificed their lives so that they may yet live. Sibyl spent much time with Laeta, both bereaved, but making best effort to boost spirits of others, especially the children.

Three weeks after laying Spartacus to rest, she sat in the tent she shared with Laeta and sobbed uncontrollably. Each night as she lay upon pallet, she would close eyes and see his face. In the quiet of night, she would let misery wrap its cool arms around her and wallow in emptiness inside. But she never gave in to uncontrolled hysterics, and yet now she stood powerless to stop tears wracking through body.

Laeta found her as such and was immediately alarmed. "Sibyl! Are you alright?"

"I do not know. Tears fall from eyes and I am absent willpower to stop them."

"Are you in pain?"

She shook her head but Laeta had noticed change in mood and flush upon skin. She checked her forehead for sign of fever or impending illness.

"You are a little hot. I will ask Nasir to examine symptoms since he stands as primary medicus."

* * *

She sat idle as Nasir touched and probed her body. He had had no formal training as healer, but had natural skill and ability. He had been accepted as general medicus when wound or injury was inflicted. She toyed with cup in her hands, having sipped cool water as ordered.

"Nasir?"

"Mmm?" He was distracted, his brow furrowed in concentration as he rubbed his fingers gently against her throat.

"Was his body seen upon field of battle?"

Nasir's eyes shot to hers, surprised.

"Apologies. It is perhaps not opportune moment to make such enquiry, but I find myself unable to put his death behind me. It is not that I do not accept it as reality, it is that I do not know how he fell."

"Would it make difference?" She merely shrugged. "Agron and I had fled to aid Spartacus," he said uncomfortably but knew she deserved truth. "But I did see him surrounded by Caesar, bound and taken by wagon."

Her eyes opened wide. "Bound and taken?" Nasir knew direction of thoughts. "He may yet live?!" she exclaimed, stepping away from his ministrations. "Why did you not tell tale-"

"Prisoners were to be made examples of Sibyl. Gannicus would not have been spared," he said gently.

Her eyes flashed. He had never seen such anger from her before and stood in slight awe of the change. "You do not know that! He may yet be held under harsh condition, but he may draw breath!"

"He would be crucified," he admitted, his voice urgent. Seeing the horror upon her face, he gentled tone. "Agron told of it, having survived attempt."

"I would see it with own eyes. We could make attempt to-" she was desperate.

Nasir shook his head.

"Nasir," she pleaded. "If there is possibility that he lives..."

He stepped forward and calmed her hands, taking them within his own. "If he lives, he would fight to yet be at your side. _If_ he lives, Gannicus will find you."

"I would make attempt-"

Nasir shook his head. "You cannot risk your life."

"_I would risk everything!_"

He again placed gentling hands upon her. "The risk is now greater than just yourself." Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You are with child, Sibyl."

She dropped the cup she had been holding, no thought spared as it shattered, her hands automatically touching her yet flat belly.

"I am not sure," he rushed to say, "but I would place it within early stages of confinement. You might have conceived-"

"Upon my wedding," she whispered, her eyes wide with shock, her voice laced with wonder.

"A gift from the gods."

"And from my husband." Her eyes met his, tears shimmering. For the first time in weeks, they were tears of joy. "Nasir," she pleaded. "If he is alive, I cannot stand idle-"

"He would have you and the life you carry within safe."

"You believe he is no longer of this world?"

He wished he could offer hope. But he had none. "I believe he loved you. And I believe that if by some miracle, the gods yet spared his life, he would fight to be by your side. There is small hope."

"I hold none for myself." She was saddened, knowing his meaning.

_A baby_. Inside, she nurtured their child. Sibyl felt her heart race, a fierce protectiveness already alive within. Their son or daughter. His seed had taken root the day they had joined as husband and wife. _Their child._

Nasir watched as slowly, incredulously, she smiled.


	16. Your Heart Is Full Of Broken Dreams

**My lovelies,**

**The end. Thank you all for your AMAZING reviews and comments and suggestions and messages and everything. It's been the best experience writing this story because all of you have been so supportive in your love for this couple. **

**Thank you **_**CarolCB, gannicusmellita, superdensi427, belanna, shiningstar, sue**_** and ALL of you. Every single one.**

**Love.**

* * *

Gannicus roused when he was carelessly thrown aside, the jostle finally bringing awareness to his mind and body. He heard soldiers laugh and jeer, something tossed upon him. _Another body_, he realised. Instinct told him to hold still as the wagon he lay upon began to move. Soldiers' words held no clue of destination, day nor time. As consciousness fully returned, so did pain running from fingertips to shoulders, each passing minute the torture intensifying. He bit down upon teeth, determined to bare it absent sound.

He opened eyes and found himself looking upon the sky. Cloudless, it was near dark. He had no idea how long he had been upon the cross. The last thing remembered was seeing Oenamaus, thinking of Sibyl, expecting eminent death. Yet here he was, drawing breath.

The wagon hit upon ditches in the road, each knock sending waves of agony all the way to the soles of his feet. He gritted his teeth, keeping breath shallow and constant. It was then that smell of decay and rotting flesh hit senses. He felt his stomach heave, but it stood absent any nourishment to dispel. He made attempt to move his fingers, pain shooting up his arm, fingers numb and uncooperative. Tears filled his eyes and he rapidly blinked them back, feeling sweat break out upon brow. He wondered if this was nothing but a fucking cruel jest.

The wagon came to a stop and soldiers began shouting orders. "Take these filthy fucking traitors and perform search for any items of value. Steal anything and your fate will stand as theirs - hung upon fucking cross. Toss corpses into trench. They will burn en masse."

His heart began to race. Experience reminded that Crassus's trenches were notoriously deep. If he were to fall into one, he would not find way out. It would be certain death. He heard motion around him and lay still, drawing upon every ounce of discipline instilled when yet a gladiator. He was dragged and then tossed upon a shoulder, deposited with no gentleness upon ground. He heard footsteps recede and chanced a glance. He lay upon a sandy hill; around him, bodies of fallen rebels. Trench stood at the edge of a forest, the mountain rising behind. _They were at the foot of the mountains_, he realised.

Footsteps returned and he closed his eyes, trying to form plan. Pain in his body made it hard to think with clarity. He also suspected fever would soon set in, wounds likely infected. Something hit his arm and he bit upon teeth hard, agony making head swim temporarily. As the footsteps again retreated, he opened his eyes and looked at the source. Against his arm lay the greyed corpse of Kore. If hands had been of use, he might have checked her pulse for sign of life. But there was no need. It was clear from colour of skin that she had long since departed this world. Her eyes were yet open, but he stood absent ability to close them, that reality hard to bare. Again, he felt anger and hopelessness do battle inside of him. He had been spared, only to be left useless as babe upon breast.

When footsteps again returned, Gannicus made effort to size up his captor. He was surprised to see it was a slave, not a soldier who performed duty. But also that the man was of an age, close to fifty he would imagine. His hair was already greying, but his form appeared lithe. Another body was heaped upon him and he did not remember making sound, but he must have, for the old man looked right at him, a cry of surprise escaping his lips.

Gannicus felt dread grip him, knowing he stood unable to defend himself. "Please," he whispered, a plea. "Please. Help me."

The old man stood momentarily astonished. When sense returned, he looked around frantically and Gannicus was terrified he would call attention. He tried to move, but could not, his body too wracked with pain, his limbs numb, absent strength to comply.

Tears of frustration rushed into his eyes. Death would be a blessing compared to this fucking shit. "Do not-"

"Hold fucking tongue!" the old man whispered urgently. "If they know you yet draw breath, you will be strung back upon cross, legs broken to urge deaths cold embrace."

Gannicus did not know what reply to make, so made none. He watched as the man went about his business, checking the bodies of the dead, relieving them of any item of value – leather, shoes and cheap jewellery. He realised eventually, it was mere show while he weighed option of what to do.

He leaned in close, checking Kore. "When sun dips below sky, I will aid in moving you to concealment of tree line. There is respite not far from there. If you fucking live that long."

"Why would you give aid?"

The old man gave pause. "Because I stood absent courage to stand in your rebellion. I might make amends for cowardice by aiding your escape."

"Gratitude."

The man shook his head. "Do not yet offer thanks. By the looks of your wounds, you might not make it through the night."

Gannicus watched as he continued to check Kore's dress for anything of worth.

"Apologies," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I would make one request." The man raised brow. "She… I knew her in life. Would you shut unseeing eyes and see her handled with kindness to final resting place?"

His nod was brisk, but his hands gentle as he closed her eyes. Gannicus was thankful. If nothing else, she was now at peace.

"Soldiers come this way. Lie unmoving until I command otherwise. May the fucking gods be with us."

* * *

Under cover of darkness, when soldiers were plied with drink, Gannicus was slung across the man's shoulders and moved to the treeline. Twice he lost consciousness, the pain too much to bear. In those moments he welcomed

oblivion, surprised when awareness arrived each time. Nausea accompanied wakefulness, no doubt due to dehydration. Once there, he was laid down and offered a sip of water.

"My son had a concealed dwelling not far from here. He moved to join rebellion, but fell in final battle." His words were heavy. "I will check that all is safe and return for you."

"Hold! What is your name?" Gannicus whispered, his stomach working at dispelling water taken. The need to wretch was powerful, so he focused on thought of Sibyl, trying to picture her smile.

"Aemilius." He was covered with foliage and heard the man's footsteps retreat.

"Gratitude." Gannicus, unable to hold on any longer, sunk into the arms of oblivion.

* * *

For a week, he was absent understanding of where he was. He flitted in and out of consciousness, aware at times of being bathed with cool water, or ladles of broth spooned into his mouth. He heard hushed tones and muted whispers, but had no strength to try and discern words or meaning. Whenever consciousness returned and he was able, he used opportunity to think of his wife.

Two weeks after he had been rescued, reality of what his life might now be like descended. The pains in his body were now but dull ache and wrists, now bandaged, no longer burned when he tried to operate his fingers. But his hands moved not like before. He could barely curl fingers, much less press upon them. When trying, sharp pains would shoot from wrist to shoulder. He now understood Agron's humiliation and felt melancholy at standing alive, yet half of who he once was.

He learnt he was within the dwelling of Cassian, son to Aemilius. Cassian had not been a free slave and had moved to join the rebellion when news of Spartacus's cause had reached ear. Aemilius was slave feed, a Roman citizen who lived alone in the woods. While still under strict law of the republic, he proved loyalty by providing service when called upon. Dwelling was really a kindness when in fact lodging was more of a shed. Much like in Sinuesa, the shed had space below ground and this was where he had been nursed.

"How long was I upon cross?" he asked one day, able to briefly form words.

"Three days. Decay and fucking stench swayed Pompey to order removal. You stand a hero. Many slaves had made purposeful visit to say discreet prayer at your feet."

Aemilius had been instructed by his former Dominus to aid in the removal of dead rebels when Pompey had ordered Appian Way cleared. Marcus Crassus had long since returned to Rome he learnt, as had his word and will, Julius Caesar.

As weeks passed, he regained his strength and with each passing day, his thoughts turned to his wife. He wondered where she was, what occupied her days and whether she was well. While his heart longed to set eyes upon her, he no longer stood as virile, physical gladiator. He had use of legs, but as yet, his hands were of little use. He barely managed to feed and cleanse himself. _Did he have right to burden her with the return of half a man?_

Gannicus stood within doorway and watched as rain fell outside. The earth smelt damp, promising new growth and life. Behind him, he heard a shuffle.

"Your strength returns with each passing day." Aemilius said. He was closer to forty in age, but the years had not been kind. His skin was weathered from hard work within the fields before he had been granted freedom. While physically he remained agile, in appearance he looked at least ten years older.

"Yet hands refuse to obey command." Gannicus flexed his fingers, wincing when they bent.

"With daily practice and application of mind, you may yet recover most of its use."

"Yet I will never wield a sword with deadly purpose."

"That I am afraid, will never be so."

Gannicus felt Aemilius look upon him with curiosity. "You have question."

"You stood general in Spartacus's army?" Gannicus frowned. "I ask because you are legend among slaves still in captivity. Many recognised you upon the cross. It is likely their prayers and offerings that have you yet drawing breath. By rights, you should not be alive."

Gannicus offered smile absent humour. "I stand alive, yet half of what I once was."

"The gods offer opportunity to start anew. Instead of lamenting on what you once were, embrace who you now have opportunity to become." Aemilius's voice was harsh, not in mood to welcome in self pity.

"And who would that be? I was once a gladiator upon the sands. I now barely have strength to lift fucking spoon to mouth."

"I stand certain your wife would gladly lend aid."

Gannicus looked sharply. He had never spoken of Sibyl. Aemilius shrugged. "You called for her many times during your delirium."

"Apologies."

"Does she yet live?"

He swallowed lump in throat. "I know not by what purpose I have been spared, but I would give anything to see self reunited with her. I believe she is yet of this world. I cannot believe the gods would be so cruel as to spare me but take her to the afterlife."

Aemilius told tale of how Pompey had slaughtered a group of rebels who travelled east across the mountain. There had been no word of group found to the north. This gave him hope, knowing Sibyl and Laeta had been with the group who took northern path.

"Then set self to path."

Gannicus shook his head. "I would dwell a while longer."

Aemilius raised brow. "You cannot hide here forever. If your woman is worthy, as you say, she will not care whether you return absent fucking limbs."

Gannicus made no reply, mind heavy with troubled thought.

* * *

Four months after he had been found, Gannicus stood with light wooden sword upon hand, previous skill absent. He could now hold sword within hand, but manipulating weapon was still hard and painful. He feared he would never stand as he once was. Where nails had been, skin eventually grew over, but insides remained tender. At times, fingers went numb, feeling returning hours later. Bruises upon the rest of his body had healed and his physical fitness returned as he trained with purposeful regime.

"Where is your wife?" Gannicus asked one evening, sitting across from Aemilius as they sipped broth from bowls.

"In the afterlife," he barked.

"Apologies."

"Do not fucking offer it," he spat. "She ran off after Cassian was born. I heard tale of her passing."

Gannicus knew not what response to give, so said nothing. After a while, Aemilius continued, his tone gentler. "There was no fucking love between us. We were not suited. She did not favour the life I would offer and I would not bend will far enough to see happy compromise."

Despite rough exterior, Gannicus realised that Aemilius had soft centre.

"Your company has been appreciated, Gannicus. But your eyes are as empty as mine now stand. Difference that you may yet have light return to them."

"I would stand worthy of her love."

"Use of hands do not make a man fucking worthy. It is intent and purpose in mind and heart. You measure self by who you once were. We cannot reverse the sun. We can only look forward to breaking of new dawn."

Gannicus nodded, feeling heavy weight lifted from shoulders. After four months, he knew time had come to set forth and find his heart.

He reached across the table and offered hand. "Gratitude. For all you have done."

Aemilius clasped his hand in return and smiled. "A man must do what he can to brace-"

Gannicus completed sentiment and grinned in return. "-against the shit of a simple day."

* * *

After four monthly cycles had passed, they had put enough distance between themselves and the legions of Rome. It was relief to all, comfort of distance bringing renewed hope. Early into the fourth month, they found land, vacant and fertile, and made plans to settle and start life anew.

Laeta was relieved; with Sibyl's growing belly, she was concerned about long days spent walking in harsh sunlight. While they had not been on the move continuously, they had spent more time moving than days idle. But Sibyl cared not. Each day her body changed in new ways. Her belly swelled, and with it, strength like she had never known. She was invigorated, their baby giving her energy and hope to toil through daily struggle. Awaking from a dream of Gannicus, she had felt a flutter in the centre of her stomach. Again and again sensation persisted until she realised it was their baby moving within. That morning, she cried for close to an hour, moment so very bittersweet.

Nasir and Agron had become heads of their family, planting crops with grain they had kept for such purpose. Later they had managed to trade fur for coin and purchased goats from travellers who passed by. Half a year later, they had a thriving community close to water, plenty of wildlife and grain to harvest. With hard work, they had erected small, mostly one roomed homesteads which housed families or friends.

It was not uncommon thing for Sibyl to hear Agron moan about being "fucking farmer." But his words held no bite and she bore witness to the happiness upon his face. He had formed a home with his lover and together, all of them, they had created a family.

* * *

"It cannot be much longer, surely?" Laeta asked, slipping behind Sibyl's back and offering much needed massage. She smiled when the expectant mother moaned in pleasure, her discomfort temporarily relieved.

"I can barely believe how quickly time has passed. It has been eight months."

"I know not whether it is your small stature, but your belly has grown huge."

"My husband was a gladiator. I would expect no less." Laeta watched as Sibyl caressed her stomach, her eyes soft and loving.

"You miss him still."

"There is not a day that I do not. Some days I think I might get through endless day without yearning for him. Sometimes I almost do," she admitted. "Our baby is what gives me strength."

"Your precious gift."

Sibyl lifted her heavy braid from her neck, sighing heavily. In recent months, with growing belly came flushes of heat and great discomfort. "Kore might have given aid with the birth," she said softly.

"You will be fine. I am here. And Nasir. Diana." Laeta tried to reassure her, knowing that with the birth eminent, it was natural for mothers to fret about what might go wrong. "Would you like to walk a little?" Laeta asked.

Sibyl rolled her eyes. "I do not walk Laeta, I waddle like duck out of water."

They both laughed. "It might ease discomfort."

"Would you join me? The evenings are cooler and it is pleasant to stretch legs."

Laeta nodded and helped Sibyl to her feet. The young woman was no longer petite, but prettily round – everywhere. Her face, hands and feet were slightly swollen, her belly large and high. But pregnancy suited her. Her cheeks were rosy, her skin aglow and her eyes held a sparkle that had been absent during the early months, when mourning and loss were too near to appreciate fully the life she nurtured inside.

"I must carry a son. Look at the size of me."

"I would not wager against you. It most certainly seems like it is a boy."

"Nasir does not agree," Sibyl said wryly as they left their tent. "He and Agron have wagered that it is a girl."

"What does your heart tell you?"

Sibyl's eyes went soft. "A son. That he will have his father's eyes and wheat coloured hair. That his chin might be adorned with the same imperfection."

"Your own little gladiator then."

Sibyl only laughed, hooked her arm through Laeta's as they walked in companionable silence.

* * *

"Nasir! Nasir!" He looked up when he heard his name called, watching as Laeta walked in, a heaving Sibyl at her side. "It is time!"

"Fucking hell," Agron muttered and Nasir rolled his eyes, stepping forward and lowering Sibyl onto the blanket he laid upon floor.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, kneeling beside her and wiping the sweat from her brow.

"As if body is ripping in two," she said, her breathing laboured, a smile upon her face. "I am having my baby."

"She is excited," Laeta said wryly as she pushed pillows behind Sibyl's back, rubbing soothingly. She moaned.

"Agron, light fire and boil water. Also, fetch clean linens." Agron nodded and all present knew he was glad to be given errand that would see him from birthing.

"I would not say excited exactly, if pain is any indication. But I am looking forward to meeting my son."

Nasir grinned. "Or daughter."

Sibyl started to laugh but another contraction hit and she moaned instead.

"It is time," Nasir said, sharing a look with Laeta who nodded.


	17. Just A Faded Memory

Sibyl cried out as a sharp, stabbing pain exploded in her back. To compensate, her breath expelled in rapid bursts. She was propped against Laeta who sat at her back, cradling her in her arms, providing soothing massage and whispered words of encouragement. It had been midmorning when water pooled between her legs. Now, a few hours later, her baby would finally greet her.

She was upon the floor in Agron and Nasir's homestead, the fire burning in preparation for the baby's arrival.

"Bear down Sibyl, you must push," Nasir said as he worked between her legs. All attempts at modesty had faded when first pains began.

"Push Sibyl. Push," Laeta encouraged.

She breathed deeply, riding the wave of pain and pushed with all her might. Tears sprung from her eyes as the stabbing pains ripped through the lower half of her body. She cried out.

"The head is out," Nasir said, his voice excited. "Almost there. One last push. Agron, keep knife ready."

If pain had not been so severe, she might have laughed at fact that Agron looked close to passing out. His eyes kept darting between Laeta, Sibyl's crimson face and Nasir's ministrations below. To his credit, without word, he removed blade from the fire in preparation of cutting baby's chord. Sibyl's chest heaved as Laeta rubbed a cool hand across her forehead. She felt as if she were close to hysterical tears. She was scared of being alone, ecstatic at finally meeting her baby. And at the moment, all she wanted was Gannicus. Yet he was the one thing she could not have.

"Come on, one last push," Laeta encouraged. Sibyl reached for her hand and with a heaving breath, pushed hard.

It felt as though pent up breath was finally expelled as with a rush, the baby exited her body. With it, most of the pain. She heard a soft mewing sound and then a wail. She had never felt purer joy.

"It's a girl!" called Nasir, the grin across his face so large, it rivalled the sun. Agron too stepped forward, unable to keep his own smile in check.

Sibyl began to cry, already reaching for the tiny body. Laeta helped bring the baby closer as Sibyl cradled her to her chest, cry settling to a soft murmur when she lay across her mother's breast.

"Her hair is the colour of wheat," she whispered, tracing her fingers across perfect eyebrows and her tiny nose. _Their daughter_.

They all gathered around, in awe of the tiny being. "I wagered it would be a girl," Agron said proudly, reaching to touch the tiny fingers which curled around his. "Jupiter fuck me. A grip to rival my own!"

"I was certain it would be a boy," Sibyl said. But in reality, she had had no real preference.

"She is beautiful," whispered Laeta, dropping a kiss on her sister's head, her eyes also full. It was too early to tell which parent she favoured, but she would be willing to make wager that it was more than just similar colouring that the little one had in common with her father.

"What would you name her?" asked Nasir.

Sibyl would provide answer when she gasped, familiar stabbing pain in lower back. She moaned.

"Sibyl!" Laeta called.

"Agron, take the babe!" Nasir ordered. Without thought of own discomfort with tiny being, Agron carefully lifted the babe into his arms, his eyes alarmed.

"What is happening?" asked Sibyl, writhing in pain. "It feels as though-"

"I see a head. There is another babe."

Sibyl grasped Laeta's hand in a crushing grip, her eyes large, shocked.

"Fuck the gods!" said Agron, unconsciously swaying the little babe in his arms.

* * *

For five months, Gannicus roamed the regions beyond the mountains. He met many upon path, but none who knew the rebel Spartacus. He did not elaborate overmuch, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself. There had been some whispers of people who had escaped across the mountain, but he had yet to find any trace of them. He kept to himself, moving from towns and cities without lingering too long, knowing that if any survivors had made it, they would not have settled upon main routes.

He refused to lose hope, but with each day that passed, toll of separation weighed heavily. His body had regained its physical strength, although his hands, even now, months later, would never be as agile as it had previously been. His grip was strong, but sustained pressure caused numbness and pain. His fingers bent, as Aemilius had promised, through continued use and exercise.

He developed greater skill with bow and arrow, or with a spear which required different ways of handling. Thought gave him pause, knowing Spartacus had always stood superior with use of such weapon.

One afternoon, Gannicus found himself upon path, stifling disappointment that yet another rumour had turned to nothing. He had heard whispers of a group of settlers near the river in the east, but upon closer inspection, they were not the party he sought. Faith began to dwindle as sun when shadow drew near. Perhaps this was eternal punishment. To find loving arms, only to be spared death and roam across world absent heart until the gods had had their vengeance.

Wrapped in woeful, thoughts, he failed to notice that before him stood two boys; strong, burly and ready for a fight. The one was fair, the other darker with olive complexion. He stopped, small smile upon lips. Fucking thieving bastards.

He noticed they stood armed with swords. "I do not seek quarrel. I stand alone and would venture forth absent words."

One stepped forward, a tall young man, barely past puberty. "What brings you upon path this far north?"

"My business is my own," Gannicus said, already anticipating fight. "I would keep it as such."

"We would have you clarify intent." The other stepped forward, his arms large and strong.

Gannicus was not in the mood. "I would repeat intent. I am alone. I do not seek quarrel nor reason to cause injury. I make request to pass in peace and in so doing, ensure your lives stand long and prosperous."

The boys laughed. "You would attempt to make threat?"

"I would attempt to have reason returned to overzealous mind."

Behind him, a third boy arrived. Gannicus turned to see he stood at roughly same age, similar build. He did not wish to cause injury to boys who were yet barely men. But he was fast losing patience with this game.

"We have heard rumour that you make enquiry on your travels," the one behind said. "Would enquiry be on behalf of the republic?"

Gannicus frowned. "I am no fucking spy."

"Yet you were spotted along the river, prying upon peaceful community."

"I seek trace of old friends," he admitted. "Glance assured they were not who I seek."

"Who do you seek then?" All three stepped forward, pressing closer. Gannicus reached for sword at his back, knowing he would have challenge with all three at once.

He had had enough of words, focusing energy on anticipating moves. As he unsheathed sword at his back, instinct told him the boy at his back would strike. He made move to block blow when "hold!" rang out.

Gannicus turned, the dark skinned boy having called instruction. He was staring at his forearm.

"Where did you receive mark?"

He frowned, irritated with question. "It was mark given me by former Dominus."

The boy shared a look with his companion. "Which house?" Gannicus failed to see intent and said nothing. "The House of Batiatus?" the boy asked.

Gannicus's frown intensified. "What of it?"

The dark skinned boy nodded to his companions, a sign for them to lower their weapons. He walked closer, Gannicus not yet ready to stand down.

"There is one among our people who bears similar mark."

He felt as though cold water had been poured atop head, spreading from scalp to base of spine. He swallowed. None of his brothers had lived. _Had all not perished upon battlefield? Had Spartacus managed to survive final battle?_

"What is his name?" He held his breath.

The boy reached him and Gannicus, lowered sword. "Agron."

* * *

Walking behind the three boys, he tried to put a lid upon emotions which threatened to burst from chest like steam from covered pot. The boys had heard rumour that stranger had been making enquiry about Spartacus. When he had been spotted near a settlement, they had made decision to determine intent – whether Rome had sent spies to trace those who had managed to escape death.

Agron. _Agron lived_. He had asked about Sibyl, whether she stood with Agron. But the boys said no more, making request that he follow them. His heart pounded with each step, a roar in his ears akin to the crashing of waves upon shore.

Ahead, he saw smoke appear at the top of a treeline and heard the laughter of children at play. Before him a clearing stood, children playing, running absent cares, kicking a ball and giving it chase. Their shrieks of laughter echoed in peace of surrounding woods. Off to the side, women sat upon a blanket, keeping watchful eye. The sun glinting off the one woman's head gave pause. It was as though they stood as flames from the deepest recess of a fire. _Laeta?_

Gannicus felt his feet move faster of own accord, his heart rate tripping with every step taken. Beside red headed woman, sat another, babe suckling upon breast. Sweat began to pool at base of spine, excitement coursing through veins as long forgotten alcohol once did.

His pace increased still. _Laeta_. It was Laeta and the woman, Diana who had birthed her child when they were upon Melia Ridge.

"Laeta!" he called. He wondered why she did not look up and realised his voice was absent sound. He tried again, this time, roaring, "Laeta!"

She turned and his heart burst with relief. He had found them. After fucking months, _he had found them._ The boys did not give chase as he ran, hanging back, recognising moment was not to be disturbed.

* * *

Laeta watched the children play, enjoying the afternoon sun. Beside her, Diana fed her son milk from breast. The afternoon was hot, cool breeze soothing balm on heated skin.

"Laeta!" she heard her name, the sound loud in the clearing. She turned, her heart beating at raw intensity of the shout.

Her eyes widened as she watched a man she thought dead run towards her. Looking much like she remembered, hair long and golden in the sunlight, arms tanned and bare, legs covered in leather.

"Gannicus?" she whispered, sure it was a vision.

"Do eyes deceive?" she heard Diana mutter, refusing to look elsewhere, lest sight prove false.

Within moments, the Celt stood before her, his hands upon her forearms. She was pulled into a hug, then quickly removed, his words urgent as he looked around, searching the clearing.

"Sibyl. Does she live? I have been upon path to find you for months." Laeta had not yet found voice, too shocked to speak. He was real. Gannicus stood before her. She swallowed and licked her lips before commanding body to move.

She launched herself into his arms, hugging him tight. They had never been close, but moment such as this demanded lapse of protocols. He was alive.

"Thank the gods," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

She felt him gentle, taking a moment to hug her close. A moment, before he pulled back and asked again, "Sibyl. Is she with you?"

Laeta nodded and watched as relief so palpable washed over his face. "Yes. She lives." She took his arm and at a run, pulled him towards the row of homesteads. "Come!"

* * *

Sibyl placed her daughter into Nasir's arms and watched as her friend gently rocked her. Her hair was yellow, her eyes brown, like her fathers.

"She is sleeping well?" Nasir asked.

"Much better. After her midnight feed, she rests till almost dawn." Sibyl watched as Nasir rubbed her little hand. "You realise you sway absent thought whenever you hold them?"

Nasir laughed. "It is condition brought upon by Agron."

"He no longer seems as afraid of babies, volunteering to play nursemaid while I feed her."

"No," said Nasir. "That is because they have him wrapped around mighty finger."

In the distance, she heard a commotion and the sound of her name being called. She frowned.

"Laeta calls?" asked Nasir, still smiling down at the baby. "Perhaps Agron has called for her aid."

At the door, Sibyl turned when Laeta stepped into frame, breath knocked from body, cheeks flushed and hair in wild disarray.

"Laeta!" she exclaimed and would have made move towards her had a man not stepped into frame, his bulk temporarily blocking Laeta from view. Sibyl felt her head swim, her knees go weak and her breath catch at same moment. She shook her head, blinked rapidly and still vision would not disappear. She looked to Nasir who was also staring, jaw slack, eyes disbelieving.

"Sibyl," the voice said and she shook her head, backing away. She would awake from this dream. It was cruel to revisit deepest wish. Especially now, upon waking hours.

"Gannicus?" said Nasir. "Fuck the gods. _Gannicus_?"

Sibyl watched as the vision nodded in Nasir's direction, but did not remove gaze from her. He blurred momentarily as tears filled her eyes before trailing from her cheek. Still, he kept stalking towards her until he stood but an arm's length away.

And then she smelt him. The smell that was unique to her husband. A sob broke from between her lips as her eyes finally rose to his face. His eyes, wrinkling so attractively at the corners, the smile, crooked and charming, his dimpled chin, the scruff upon his face, the long, golden strands of hair.

"Gannicus?" she whispered, afraid now that she would wake from her dream.

"I had made promise," he said, taking final step and easing her into his arms, "that I would honour plans made."

Sibyl reached out, placing her hands upon bare shoulders, the skin warm beneath her touch. She ran her hands along his shoulders, until they tangled in his hair. _Was he real?_ Her heart dared not hope.

"Gannicus?" she whispered again.

This time, he said no more, pulling his wife into his arms and pressing his lips to hers in a glorious kiss. As if her lips had not been without his touch in almost a year, they responded absent hesitation. She pulled him close, her mouth opening to receive his eager tongue, his hands at her waist, her back, her arms, everywhere they could reach.

"It _is_ you," she cried between fevered kisses. "You are here. You have come back to me."

She wrapped her arms around him and buried herself in his neck. His arms enveloped her in a bone crushing embrace, but she welcomed it.

"I had made promise," he said again, his own voice hoarse.

"Thank the gods," she whispered.

"Fuck Jupiter himself! The boys spoke fucking truth!"

Gannicus placed final kiss upon her lips and turned, bringing her with him. They had an audience. Laeta and Nasir stood with tears upon their faces. Agron loomed just inside the doorway, a little bundle in his arms.

Sibyl saw her children, _their_ children in the arms of friends. She looked at him and saw he too noticed the babes.

"I would offer welcoming embrace, but my brothers have arms already weighted."

Nasir stepped forward and motioned for Agron to do the same. Sibyl touched his arm and he looked at her, amusement turning to concern when he saw her gaze upon him.

She reached up upon her toes and placed her lips upon his before she took his hand and pulled him forward, towards centre of the room where Agron and Nasir waited.

"I made discovery many months ago, that when we last lay together, we had created miracle," she began. She saw his frown deepen, pressing on even when she began to suspect panic. "I would present," she said, taking her daughter from Nasir and gently turning towards him. "Your daughter, Kore."

She saw his eyes widen, darting from her face to the baby and back, as if waiting for her to utter that it was mere jest. He swallowed slowly.

"And," said Agron, reading panic correctly, enjoying every moment of his brother's shocked discomfort. "I would present, your son."

Gannicus looked back at Sibyl and she took his hand with her free one, offering support. He stood immovable, his head the only thing moving. His jaw had slacked, mouth opening slightly.

"Oenamaus," she whispered.

Gannicus's eyes flew to hers and she saw moisture pool. Her own eyes filled again as she watched him slowly reach out for his son. Agron placed the babe within arms and clasped Gannicus on his shoulder. "Brother," was all he said before leaving them, closing door as Laeta and Nasir departed also.

Sibyl watched as he looked at the boy, eyes taking in his dark colouring, favouring his mother. He did not know it, but Oenamaus also had her green eyes. As much as their daughter was the image of her father, their son was mirror to his mother.

He reached out for Kore, his hands touching her smooth cheek. Is was in this moment that Siby saw the scars at his wrists where nails had once pierced the skin. She recalled Nasir's words. _Crucifixion_. Her eyes filled again.

"_Gannicus_."

She pulled his injured wrist to her lips and kissed the skin before pressing her lips to his.

He pulled her to him, cradling his wife and his children to his chest. "Hold tears," he commanded gently. "I would have us spill no more. Not ever again."


	18. Look Up And See Love Has A Face

"I did not think I would lay eyes upon you in coming days."

Gannicus grinned as he walked towards Agron, watching as he closed gate to keep goats within fenced enclosure.

"My wife tends the needs of my children. I would take opportunity to offer thanks for all you have done."

The men embraced, holding tightly to each other. They were all that was left of the heart of a rebellion that now stood as distant memory.

"I would not have believed it if own fucking eyes do not bear witness. How did you manage such a thing? Escape the clutches of Crassus and his fucking legions?"

Gannicus shrugged, removing covering from wrists and baring them for Agron to see. He watched as pain crossed his brother's face, understanding as no one else could what he had endured.

"I was nailed upon cross and left to welcome the afterlife. By accidental circumstance I was found alive and offered rescue. I have been searching for word of you for months."

Agron shook his head in disbelief. "The gods truly favour you."

Gannicus chuckled. "I suspect they favour Sibyl. Thought of her is all that kept hope alive."

"You return to more than Sibyl," Agron teased. "You are ready to take up mantle of husband and father?"

"I never thought such a thing would be my destiny. But I embrace it as I once did life in the arena. It is opportunity for new beginning."

"It is so. Nasir and I also find ourselves surrogate to the three boys who encountered you upon path."

Gannicus nodded, already aware of a fierce protective instinct growing within him. "Sibyl told of Spartacus's death."

Agron nodded. "He passed from grievous wounds. But died on own terms, loving wife sent to ease passing."

They both stood silent a moment before Gannicus lightened mood. "You now farm fucking goats."

Agron rolled his eyes. "It is Nasir's idea. Fucking animals."

Gannicus laughed out loud for the first time in almost a year. It felt good. "You do not fool me brother. You have affinity for the beasts."

Agron grinned. "Perhaps. They have a manner of growing upon you."

* * *

When dawn broke across the mountains, Sibyl and Gannicus had not yet closed eyes to seek comfort of sleep. They made love, over and over, each time more precious than the one before, their gratitude at being reunited unquenchable. She would leave his arms only long enough to feed their children.

He stood slightly overwhelmed, but did not shy from opportunity to hold them and watched with rapt attention as their tiny mouths suckled at their mother's breast.

"Oenamaus," he whispered. "Greedy beast," he said tenderly with a proud chuckle.

"Like his father," Sibyl returned with humour.

"Gratitude." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. She sat beside him on their pallet.

"Laeta had offered your name as suggestion. But I believed tribute to beloved friend would have been what your heart would have desired."

He smiled. "It was." He looked down at his daughter who lay curled in his arms. "And Kore."

Sibyl's smile was sad. "Gratitude for seeing her to final resting place."

He touched his daughter's little hand, his chest constricting when her tiny fingers curled around his, her grip strong.

"I but made request that she be handled with care."

"She had died a long while before then," Sibyl said. "Of a broken heart."

Gannicus made no response, the soft sound of a suckling babe filling the comfortable silence.

"Agron looks comfortable tending goats."

"He would be comfortable tending grass if it made Nasir happy."

At length he said, unease in his voice. "I am no farmer. I know nothing of the land nor fucking animals."

She laughed and Oenamaus protested, his mouth temporarily dislodged from her breast.

"You could teach," she suggested and he turned to look at her, his brow raised. "We live free, but it might not always be so. There will always be those who would threaten our home." She looked down at their children. "And our family. You were once a gladiator. Teach those who would learn how to protect their families."

Gannicus looked to his hands, unconsciously curling his fingers. "Perhaps there is knowledge that these hands might yet impart," he said, idea taking root. "Or, I might favour the life of a pirate," he teased. She merely rolled her eyes. "I would caution, I have developed skill with fucking bow," he said with a smile.

"A weapon you have always had distaste for. I was always better," she added. "I would be willing to hold contest."

His winked at her, pulling her close. "I look forward to moment." he whispered, his eyes searching hers, seeking then finding their connection. "I love you," he said in earnest.

She felt her insides clench, and it had nothing to do with the fact that her son yet fed at her breast. "I love you too." He placed loving kiss against her temple, as they watched their children find sleep.

* * *

Sibyl moved eventually, placing Oenamaus in his basket, Gannicus lowering Kore into hers. They made no sound, each asleep. They stood over their children and he pulled her back against his chest, his arms around her waist, head buried in her neck.

"Kore... she looks... like me. She even has imperfection upon her little chin." He chuckled a little self consciously. "And Oenamaus favors you."

"It is a fascinating circumstance, to see self in miniature form. She offered great comfort when I gazed upon her."

"Was their delivery a difficult thing?" He asked softly.

She shook her head. "Nasir and Laeta were pillars of strength. Agron almost dropped Kore when Oenamaus came. We, none of us were prepared for two of them. But I missed you."

His arms tightened around her.

"I began to lose hope I would ever lay eyes upon you again," he confessed. "Or that I would be worthy man when hands..."

She turned in his arms, resting her forehead against his. "_You_ are all that matters. Alive and well. I would love you absent every limb upon your body." He was reminded of Aemilius's sentiment. "I knew not of your fate and yet I prayed to the gods. They sent you to me in Sinuesa. I made request that they return you once again."

"I remember nothing of the three days I was upon the cross."

He felt her shudder. "I would not think upon it. I cannot."

He gathered her close, her warmth and smell a balm. "Your body has changed," he whispered. She raised her brow. He grinned. "In the most pleasurable ways." He ran his hands across her breasts, skimming her waist and hips. "There are appealing curves I would yet take time to explore."

He reached for her and she for him, no barriers between them. If his lips had one function for the rest of his life, he would have them kiss her. Her lips were as he remembered, soft and responsive. Her hands slid across his skin, igniting pleasure where they travelled. She found her favourite destination, tangling fingers in his hair.

When he lay between her thighs, he raised himself upon his elbows and locked their gazes. Her eyes were soft, her bottom lip between her teeth, biting hard when he thrust. His hands found her breasts, his palms cupping them, marvelling at how they now spilt out of his palms.

"You are perfection," he whispered in her ear, his breath strained.

She gasped as his speed increased, her own arms pulling him close, wrapping her legs around him.

Gannicus felt her insides clench around his cock and his own release followed swiftly thereafter.

_He was home_.

* * *

_Years Later_

Gannicus, once gladiator and general in the slave rebellion, settled into life as husband and father. He taught all those who would learn to defend themselves - techniques he had learned many years past from trusted brother. Men and women alike came from far and wide to learn at the hands of one who once fought and won his freedom.

Every year, on the anniversary of Spartacus's death, their community would hold gladiatorial games. More symbolic, friends and family would fight in the makeshift arena. But they would spill no blood and spar using swords fashioned from wood. The games provided opportunity to remind that through the sacrifice of many, they were given opportunity to live free.

When the twins turned two years old, Sibyl birthed another daughter, Camilla. Gannicus admitted to her that one of his greatest joys was watching as her body changed when she nourished their children within. The way her belly would curve and firm, her breasts swelling. The feeling of their child kicking at his back when her stomach rested against him at night. The massages he willingly provided to ease her discomfort. The way her eyes sparkled with new life, or her skin glowed.

In total, he fathered three daughters and two sons. A loving husband and protective father, he doted upon his daughters and they upon him. But he ensured they were as capable of protecting themselves as their brothers were. When they were older, he told them tales of warriors – Naevia, Mira and Saxa.

Even after many years had passed, Agron still found it endlessly amusing when he watched Gannicus with his girls, the warrior wrapped tightly around the fingers of all the women in his life.

To his wife, he owed everything. She had saved him from himself when she entered into it, bringing light where there had only been darkness.

She was his entire life. And he, he was hers.

**THE END**

* * *

_A/N: To the few readers to asked, apologies, but I was never a Gaxa shipper, so unfortunately, I will not be writing fic about them._

_Many of you have asked whether I will write about the early stages of the Gannibyl love story. I have. Fated to Pretend is posted here and completed._

_Regarding names: I didn't want to create an army of Spartacus's and Sura's and Lugo's, etc. Those people are all dead and I didn't really want to weigh everything down by that. In the context of this story, Kore was close to Sibyl and any boy Gannicus had would always be Oenamaus in my view. I didn't name all the children. So if you imagine one being Spartacus and another Sura, it is your choice :)_

_Finally, gratitude to CarolCB who helped me understand what Gannicus was meant to do._


End file.
